The Slave & the Soldier
by Embrasia
Summary: As a southern gentleman handsome and wealthy Arthur Pendragon felt honored to enlist as a confederate soldier. But what will the young plantation heir do when he falls irrevocably in love with a Negro woman; a slave in his father's household named Gwen. As tensions rise between the north and south will Arthur betray the confederacy or his own heart?
1. The Morning Routine

The Morning Routine

Arthur sat up in bed, glancing around his massive chamber. In the bright morning light his room looked strangely unfamiliar. _I've spent my entire life in this house; but every time I awaken from one of my peculiar dreams it seems as though I don't belong here. I have this feeling of disconnection, of things not being as they should. Gradually reality filters in; my chamber feels less alien to me, and a sense of belonging returns. My mysterious visions of another place and time are rare but so very strange. I find myself in a time of knights and dragons fighting a war on magic. It feels as if I've been at war all my life so I wasn't even hesitant about enlisting as a confederate soldier._

Arthur pulled back the covers and climbed out of bed. His bare feet padded across the cold marble floor. His suite was roughly the size of a small house with a furnished sitting area, bathing area, and office. He relieved his bladder in a pot, and then stood before the dresser mirror. Felt the rough stubble on his face. He sharpened his straight razor on a strap and then thought better not to use it. Instead he climbed back in bed.

_I've already missed breakfast. It's late in the morning. My cousin Morgana will panic soon and send Gwen, her lady's maid and nurse, to check on me. She's come to my chamber every morning since I've been home on sick leave. Her examination is the best part of my day. God truly has a sense of humor. Why is the only girl I've ever loved the very one I'm forced to live without?_

Like clockwork Guinevere walked in with a smooth gliding gate that exuded pure confidence and self assurance. Elegant is a word rarely used to describe a slave but Gwen carried herself with the grace of a queen. Her skin was a smooth light brown, her eyes glimmering and reflective like sea washed glass. She was the embodiment of captivating beauty, raw intellect, and pure elegance. Against every shred of logic Arthur longed for her touch.

"I see you're not feeling any better," Gwen announced as she sat on the bed next to him.

Arthur groaned and played the part. Her obsidian eyes darkened with concern. She began removing supplies from her bag and prepared to look him over. She placed a palm on his forehead. He fought the urge to grin.

Gwen informed him, "You don't feel warm but I'll take your temperature just in case."

Arthur nodded. Gwen gave the glass thermometer a few shakes and then placed it under his tongue. She felt the glands just below his ears with her fingertips.

"The swelling has appeared to go down," She informed him and continued her examination.

A couple weeks ago Arthur's father, General Uther Pendragon, discharged him from duty. Arthur had fallen deathly ill. His throat wasn't only sore; it felt as though he was breathing fire. He burned with fever and his whole body ached, but he was long over his illness. Now he was the picture of perfect health, but that wouldn't stop him from milking this opportunity for all it was worth.

Guinevere removed his thermometer and read it with a puzzled look. "Your fever is gone. I'm not sure why you still feel poorly. Please stick out your tongue for me young Master Pendragon."

He obliged her with a sigh. Arthur was once proud to be the heir of his father's vast plantations. Now he found himself questioning their way of life. Hearing that title from anyone made him sigh, but from her it was like a knife to his heart. A hard stinging slap of reality._How delusional am I to carry on like this with a girl who calls me master and only touches me out of obligation._

What was it about Gwen? He yearned to have her in his bed of course, but he also yearned to have her in his life; to be loved by her.

Gwen's luscious lips parted in a smile as she assured him, "Sir, your tonsils are no longer red and swollen. I know you don't feel better yet, but you're getting there."

He nodded and anticipated the best part. She informed him dutifully, "I'll have to listen to your chest the old fashioned way. I'm sorry but as you already know I don't have a stethoscope. If your father would get me one I wouldn't have to violate you in this manner."

He assured her in the gruffest voice he could conjure, "I understand. Do what you must."

She placed an ear to his bare chest. Her soft warm cheek grazed his flesh and he melted. She was listening to his breathing and the sound of his heart, but he wished her ear was her lips. If her face felt this heavenly her mouth had to be sinful. He fought the urge to embrace her; yearned to hold her between the sheets and commit unspeakable acts of debauchery.

"Deep breath in," she instructed while Arthur cooperated fully. "Now exhale, and one more time. Now exhale. Your chest seems… clear," she informed him with a puzzled look."

At the conclusion of the examination Gwen fetched him two pills for pain and a glass of orange juice. She gave a few instructions and wished him well.

As she headed for the door she said, "Please talk to your father about the stethoscope so I don't have to bother you like this again."

"Of course," He fibbed, a smile creeping across his lying lips.

Arthur gathered his nerve, mustered up his courage "Guinevere."

She stopped and spun on her bare heals as he climbed out of bed, "Yes Sir."

"May I show you something," Arthur asked.

She nodded and followed him across the lofty chamber to his office, delighted that he held her opinion in high regard. _Most days it feels as if Morgana is the only one who sees me for who I am rather than just what I am. On the rare occasion Arthur treats me like an equal it's the best feeling in the world. But why do I care what this spoiled white boy thinks of me anyway?_

Arthur unrolled a large blueprint across his cluttered drafting table, "I'm building a hunting lodge for my father."

Gwen gazed in awe of the meticulously designed building: a spacious loft in the shape of a pyramid.

Her lovely face lit up with a smile. "It's beautiful, remarkable. Is there anything you can't do?"

He wrapped an arm around the small of her back, leaned forward, and whispered seductively, "I can think of one thing, and unfortunately it's what I want to do most."

Gwen shoved him away but her true emotions betrayed her. Her mouth was saying one thing but her eyes were saying another. Her lying protests were soon trapped within her master's kiss as he lifted her by her buttocks and laid her on top of the drafting desk. Protractors and rulers went colliding with the marble floor. His mouth met hers with such intensity she dug her fingers into the broad, muscular, canvas of his back. Arthur parted her legs with his hips and used all of his weight to subdue his captive, pressing himself even firmer between her legs. She gasped as he began grinding against her; eliciting lustful moans from the woman wrapped in his embrace. She succumbed to his animalistic needs as well as her own. She grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him closer, arching her soft bosom into him to fuel his passion. At last Gwen broke the kiss and gazed up at Arthur's handsome face, his dazzling blue eyes, and golden tresses. It didn't seem real to her. She felt like she would wake up at any moment.

Arthur pulled Gwen's hands above her head before burying his face in her neck. It was all the more exciting to love her in broad daylight while she wore her servant's gown. It was a defiant slap in his father's face: a naughty forbidden act he'd spend quite a while in confession for. He ventured under her dress to caress the sweet spot between her legs and her body trembled beneath him. Arthur smiled ever so slightly before returning his lips to hers. Gwen moved against his fingertips as he rubbed her delicate folds. He untied her pantaloons and pulled them off and she shivered as the cool air hit her bare moist nether regions. She gently licked, nibbled, and sucked his neck from his earlobe down to his collarbone.

Arthur impatiently unlaced the top of her dress, baring her lovely brown breasts. He suckled the firm chocolate nipples sitting atop her perky mounds and she gently gripped his locks. She leaned forward and reached down to free his aching manhood, giving it a few strokes with her hand. Arthur took in rapid breaths as Gwen wrapped her legs around his waist. He lowered his hips positioning himself while pulling aside her dress. She held his firm, manly, torso, preparing herself for the moment they'd collide. Arthur buried his tongue in her waiting mouth, licking, and sucking while she matched the young Englishman. One of his hands full of Guinevere's breast and the other full of himself, he held the blunted tip of his erection so firmly against her womanhood had she flinched she would've no longer been a maiden. Just as he was going to shatter the barrier that had so long separated them, just when he would've caused her to call out _Mathew!_And dig her dark fingers into his white back, and clench his cock so passionately with her hot wet walls that he would gasp and grip the table in order to refrain from hammering her into oblivion; there was a knock on the door that sounded more like thunder. Before he could yell, "Get lost!" Morgana stormed in with a glare so angry it cast a shadow on her glamorous looks.

Annoyed, but still in a daze, Arthur dreamily turned toward the intruder and Gwen sat up on the table and covered herself. His cousin was furious but Arthur was in his own world. He barely acknowledged her ranting. He turned back to his lovely slave nurse, but she was gone.

He looked down to find his pants were not in a heap on the floor, but neatly tied at his waist. He'd never even left his bed, never kissed Guinevere, never touched her. Instead of a supple brown breast lightly moistened by his kisses, all he held was the cold glass of orange juice Guinevere gave him to wash down two pain pills. Arthur set the pills and the drink on his nightstand and climbed out of bed, his mind clouded by a deep sense of longing and regret.

He walked over to Morgana, "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

Morgana glared angrily, "Arthur, please pardon my intrusion but I've just talked to Gwen. She believes she's failing as a nurse because she can't figure out for the life of her why a man with no symptoms continues to feel ill, but I have!"

"Hey!" Arthur called as Morgana stalked around his chamber, tendrils of raven hair dancing over her beautiful porcelain face. She tipped his waste basket and poked around at its contents. She looked in the drawer of his nightstand, and finally under the bed.

"I can explain," He swore as she discovered half a week's worth of pills.

Morgana exclaimed, "Arthur you haven't been sick in three days! How can Gaius train her properly if she's treating a healthy man? The time she wasted here could've been spent helping people who actually needed it. This medicine should have gone to those who were ill. I'll have to tell your father the lengths you went to just to avoid your duties as a soldier."

He fell silent. He knew his father would believe Morgana over him. Uther had a fondness of Morgana that Arthur resented at times. He decided not to make things worse by lying. Hopefully honesty would get him somewhere.

"I wasn't avoiding military service. You know I'm not a coward." He swore.

She asked with confusion, "Then why pretend to be ill, Arthur?"

He took a deep breath, "I feigned sickness to spend a few moments alone with Gwen. I wasted medication and time. You have every right to be angry. But do you know how hard it is to be so close to the one you love and yet so far away? I know it was wrong and I don't condone being deceitful. I'll have to confess my sins later. But the only time she ever touches me is out of duty."

Morgana stared at him, mouth ajar. Anger transformed to shock, "Arthur! Your father will swear Gwen's corrupted you! He'll never believe you fell for a Negro wench of you own volition. He'll beat her to within an inch of her life and sell her; or worse he could lynch her!"

"I know the consequences!" Arthur lashed back, "That's why you're the only one who knows how I feel about her and I need to keep it that way."

Morgana shook her head with a twinge of empathy for her cousin. "I understand you have quite the dilemma, but don't you dare get my friend killed."

She turned and left him alone and he felt more alone than ever. He dared to take a final, mournful, glare at his drafting table with an irrational hope this hadn't all been a cruel fantasy, that Guinevere would still be sitting there with bare breasts and spread thighs; her dress in a crumpled roll across her middle. Her delicate fingers will be traveling over smooth brown skin glistening with a light sheen of perspiration. Gwen will beckon him with a come and get me look that would have him standing at attention, yearning to be mounted and rode into the sunset like a thoroughbred stallion…

He looked, blinked, once… twice… thrice… but she wasn't there. His blueprints were still tightly rolled. His protractors, pencils and rulers still lay on the drafting table. All he was left with was a neat desk and burning questions. Was he wrong to feel the way he did? Did Gwen feel the same way too? Was he fighting for the right side in this war? With a sigh, and a shake of his head Arthur went on with his morning routine.

**Author's note: It is common knowledge that slaves spoke broken English, but I toned down the ebonics for sake of a smoother read. I had to narrow down the genre to list**_**The Slave & the Soldier**_**, but in truth it falls into many categories (adventure, angst, drama, family, friendship, fantasy, romance, irony, & suspense). So please give it a chance, and review whenever you have a moment. I cannot express how much I love and appreciate them.**

**Thank you for reading :^)**

**-Embrasia-**


	2. A Brother's Love

A Brother's Love

On an island off the African coast smoke and ash stung the eyes and burned the nostrils. The blazing inferno made the normally sweet smelling air pungent and heavy to breath. Another village burned, hundreds more people captured and sold into slavery; just a typical week for Warlord Helios. He was a large man almost imposing, with eyes as dark and fierce as the pits of hell itself. Helios sat on the beach as the breaking dawn sent a million sparkles over the ocean; cool waves washed over his sandaled feet as he grinned and counted his satchel of gold. He'd made quite a profit conquering villages. He was accompanied by over fifty of his personal guards including his younger brother Kian.

Kian stormed over to Helios, the sun gleaming off his shaved head and golden earrings. Kian brandished ten small hoops in each ear; a piercing for everyman he'd killed in battle. Not out of pride but merely as a means of punishing himself.

"Why must you do this!" Kian cried out as he held the limp corpse of a child: a girl not older than four.

One of her ponytails had been completely burned off along with that side of her lovely face. The other side still bore delicate smooth skin and a soft chubby cheek. Kian looked upon the dead girl: half angel, half charred ruined mess, an innocent brown eye with an eternal stare that begged the question, _"Why did this have to happen to my people?"_

Kian demanded an answer on behalf of the slain child, "Helios why!"

Helios swore to his brother, "She was an accident Kian! I never intended for the slave trade to go this far. I started out merely selling my prisoners of war: men who'd gone against me in battle. But in the Americas they breed dark people like cattle and the black men outnumber the women ten to one. The slave traders are demanding women and children now. I had no other choice but to sack this village, or else I'd have none to sell."

Kian turned his back on Helios, a major show of disrespect. The watching warriors gasped. A blanket of silence fell over the chaos. No one had ever done that and been allowed to live. But even a heart made of stone can have a soft spot in it. Helios' was his brother; the kid he swore to his dying mother he'd take care of. Kian laid the little girl's body on the cool moist sand and knelt by her in prayer.

Helios rolled his eyes and huffed with exasperation. _No wonder father chose me to lead his armies. Kian is just plain pathetic, softer than American cotton. And if this isn't bad enough he's going to ruin his life in the unholy act of matrimony._

As Kian finished his prayer Helios asked, "Why are you getting married? Father is choosing me a wife tomorrow and the very idea of it makes me want to run for my life, because it's over the moment I take a bride."

Kian didn't respond. Helios urged him to speak freely.

Kian took a deep breath. "It's very simple your majesty. I don't fear marriage because I love Yaya. I'd give her the very air I breathe. Every time we go off to battle the men's wives are there to see them off. The women are sending locks of their hair, and care packages. They're sobbing and praying to the gods for a safe return, while I have no one there for me. Those married warriors fight twice as hard for they have twice as many reasons to live. When they return their loving wives are there to welcome them, feed them, and make love to them with a whole new appreciation. I want what they have."

Helios congratulated Kian on the pending nuptials while thinking. _Poor hapless bastard, soon to be tied down with a wife, a baby, and responsibility. I'm doomed to be next._

Helios grimaced at the thought of his approaching wedding and his body began to cramp. It was dull at first but grew more intense: shooting stabbing pain. With great effort he forced himself to stand. He grasped his chest as it tightened and constricted his air flow. He fought to breath, inhaled what little he could, but collapsed a moment later.

Helios' personal guards ran over to him. The fainting was as much a shock to them as it was to him. The warlord had never been sick a day in his life, not so much as a sniffle. He'd never had a broken bone. He'd never had a cut that didn't heal almost immediately.

Helios called up in a daze, "I don't feel right. I'm tired, weak. I can barely breathe."

An arrow swished. Kian dived. It sliced his arm. He'd blocked it before it could hit Helios. The warriors looked up. Over two-hundred enemy fighters were storming the beach. Arrows sailed through the air. Helios' guards returned fire with guns purchased from Americans. Many enemies fell but they were greatly out-numbered. Helios' guards pulled him up. They surrounded him and fled into the nearby wilderness. A multitude of enemy tribesmen were on their trail. Four of his men were snared by large nets. Almost instantly they were flung high in the air, dangling from trees. Helios gasped in horror. Unable to do anything for them he continued to run. His remaining guards were picked off one by one with poisonous darts. Their running became slower then sluggish. Before long the guards fell one after another. All that remained was Kian and Helios. Kian hollered out as he fell into a large hole. It had been covered by palm leaves and shrubbery.

Helios ceased; his feet dangling over the edge. He waved his arms to catch his balance. Once stable he kneeled and extended a hand to Kian.

"Run your majesty!" Kian demanded.

Helios ignored him. He grabbed Kian and pulled with all his might.

"Rise slowly," A voice behind him demanded.

Helios felt cool sharp steel at his throat. He released Kian and did as he was told. He was surrounded. The crowd of enemy warriors parted way as their leader emerged. The rival prince stood before Helios with a sinister smirk.

"I suppose this is the part where you kill me," Helios stated with heaving breaths.

The only thing more unbelievable than being captured was being out of breath. Helios almost never tired. What was going on today?

The enemy prince didn't speak. He shoved Helios by the face. The warlord plummeted. The large hole swallowed him up. He smacked the ground hard and defiantly climbed to his feet. He looked over. Kian was pulling a venomous dart from his shoulder. Before Helios could help he felt the sharp stab of a poisoned dart, awful burning, followed by tingling and numbness. Helios snatched it from his neck, which didn't make a difference.

He grew sluggish, confused, the world began to spin, a blinding blur of forest and light. His legs tingled, weakened, and collapsed beneath him. The warlord fell forward on the cold wet earth, his vision hazy, his cheek pressed to the ground. He lay paralyzed with nothing but the scent of moist soil and defeat. His only vision: the fuzzy silhouette of his fallen comrade. He had become one of the fallen, and soon he'd join their mother in the afterlife. His breathing slowed, followed by his heart, and then everything went black…

The largest sea vessel Helios had ever seen was docked just off shore. White waves slammed against the enormous ship causing it to sway to and fro. Helios stood in a long line of black men all chained together by the necks. The sun was brutally hot that island morning and salty sweat burned the warlord's eyes. He couldn't move to wipe it away. His wrists were bound behind his back.

Helios listened in on the conversations of the white men running about his island and understood them perfectly. He had for many years flooded his own island with so many Americans that most of their inhabitants spoke English. Even the rival African kingdoms had picked up much of the language.

Kian was unshackled so that Merlin, the ship's physician, could examine him before they boarded the slave vessel. Kian might have killed the thin, pale, stranger with florescent blue eyes if it weren't for all the pistols pointed in his direction.

Merlin sighed. This isn't at all why he learned the art of medicine; and certainly not why he took an apprenticeship with Gaius. Merlin worked for the Pendragons in order to keep a good influence on Arthur which at times seemed all for naught. Merlin came on this voyage to keep an eye on the ship's captain, a man Arthur at times trusted more than he should.

Merlin shook his head. _My mentor, Gaius, swears to know_ _Arthur's heart. Gaius truly believes that Arthur could be the one to end the cruelty and ill treatment of anyone different._ _I personally don't see how when Arthur's such a spoiled prat and a dollop head. But if Gaius believes in Arthur then so must I._

Merlin pushed up the sleeves of his plain brown waist coat. "Let's have a look at that cut shall we," He told the African.

He was referring to the laceration Kian received when he blocked the arrow from striking Helios.

Captain Agravaine, Arthur's beloved uncle, yelled at the ship physician, "That tiny scratch won't hurt that big nigger! Move it along. We have to get this cargo boarded. I'm already behind schedule."

The white sailors snatched Kian and led him away.

Merlin snapped at Captain Agravaine, "Why do you seek my counsel and then refuse to listen! The tiniest break in the skin could serve as a breeding ground for infection. You know how unsanitary the conditions are below deck. You should've allowed me to treat that man!"

Captain Agravaine straightened his triangular hat on his greasy looking black hair, "Fine, I'll let you treat the next one but hurry it up."

They unshackled Helios next. The warlord shot a deadly glare at the young prince who'd captured him as the physician looked him over. _Yesterday I was a lord of war and today I'm lowly cargo to be bought, sold, and traded. The dart's poison has worn off but my strength has yet to return. I couldn't fight my captors if I tried._

The handsome dark prince smiled at Helios and asked, "What no jokes? You usually have something funny to say. How does it feel to lose everything?"

"I will see you again and I will claim your head," Helios threatened his rival as the physician finished his exam.

"He's good to board," Merlin called to the sailors.

They led Helios away and were on to the next. Captain Agravaine walked up to the rival prince and extended a sack of coins. As the prince reached for the payment Captain Agravaine snatched it back.

"Not so fast," The captain said with an evil smirk. "You promised me fifty-two niggers. I counted fifty-one."

The prince swung his spear swiftly. It hit Captain Agravaine behind the knees, and sent him colliding with the sand. White sailors rushed over with aimed guns as the prince pressed the blade against their captain's throat.

The prince's beautiful lover warned, "Anything happens to my betrothed you are all dead men!"

The sailors looked up to find hundreds of dark-skinned fighters emerging from the forest. Grossly outnumbered, the white men lowered their weapons.

The prince snatched the payment and growled at Agravaine. "**I** am number fifty-two."

The prince removed the blade from Captain Agravaine's throat and they both rose to their feet.

The Captain spoke with a look of complete and utter confusion, "You're selling yourself into slavery? What's your name boy?"

"Prince Elyan," He growled and turned his back on the discombobulated white man.

Elyan tossed the sack of gold to his lover, Eurydice. "Make sure some good comes of this blood money."

His betrothed nodded and hugged him tight with tears in her eyes. She knew his mind was made up. There was no persuading him otherwise.

Elyan told her, "I'm so sorry."

She hushed him, "Don't be. I know you can never fully give your heart to me as long as there's a hole in it. Find your sister and come back to me."

Elyan nodded and placed his lips upon hers. Her prince walked away and added himself to the line of black men, awaiting the physician.

She discussed the conditions of her lover's trip with Captain Agravaine. "Elyan isn't to ride below deck with the others. It defeats the purpose of all he's sacrificed if he's dead before he makes it to her."

"Who's her," Captain Agravaine asked as he dusted the sand off his hat and put it on.

Eurydice answered, "Several months earlier you took a teenage girl in a siege. She was lighter skinned than us because her mother was from a northern tribe on the mainland. She bore a tattoo of a falcon on her shoulder."

"Ah I know the one," Captain Agravaine replied. "She was a vicious beast, took seven of my men to capture her. She was easy on the eyes so I kept her up on deck until my first mate tried to get a piece."

Eurydice laughed. "She broke his arm didn't she?"

The Captain grimaced, "That savage heathen girl broke his neck. Then she tried to jump ship and drown herself. Merlin caught her just in time to save her from a watery grave. I had to lock her below deck with the others."

Eurydice shook her head with amusement but wasn't surprised in the least.

She informed Captain Agravaine, "Elyan is to be sold to whomever you sold her."

Captain Agravaine nodded, "She's at the Pendragon's New Orleans plantation. They call her Guinevere."

Elyan's woman warned Agravaine as they faced off on the beach, "Elyan is what we call a falcon. He's one of the fiercest and most deadly African trackers. If you betray him and sell him to anyone else he will never stop hunting you. Once he's found you he will slaughter your entire family and leave you alive to bury what's left of their bodies."

Captain Agravaine swallowed hard, "I sold her to the Pendragon's but there's no guarantee she's still there."

Eurydice assured him. "Just leave my betrothed with the last people you saw Guinevere with. Elyan is well aware that plantation may be the first of many stops on the road to a reunion. As long as there is breath in his body and blood in his veins he will never stop looking for his sister."

At the conclusion of Prince Elyan's exam Merlin called out, "He's good to board."

Captain Agravaine heeded the warning and gave his men the signal to house Prince Elyan up on deck. The gang of scallywags stopped. Confusion covered their un-kept bearded faces. They usually only brought just a hand full of beautiful girls up on deck to service lonely sailors.

"On deck," Agravaine demanded.

The sailors shrugged and did as they were told. Eurydice watched helplessly as they led him away. She'd put on a strong face for as long as she could stand to. Now tears poured over her dark cheeks, her long pretty dreadlocks danced in the island breeze as her heart was ripped out. _You better come back to me Elyan._

As Captain Agravaine headed for the small boat that would carry him to his ship the island girl called out in a hoarse voice, "One more thing." The Captain stopped in his tracks and she continued, "Never return here."

"But this was such a profitable stop," Captain Agavaine shouted.

Eurydice informed him, "My niece and nephew were taken in the raid on my village, and now I may never see my lover again. This island is finished with the slave trade. From this day forth any white man who sets foot on these shores will be executed without prejudice."

Helios stood below in the cargo hold ankle deep in piss, shit, and sea water. He took a few steps forward only to feel another pile of human excrement squish between his toes. The ship was dark except for a modicum of light breaking through a few round windows. It smelled like death. A rancid mixture of vomit, feces, urine, and blood made the air heavy and putrid. The hands of many broken and brutalized captives reached out to him murmuring in anguish; as if reaching up from the pits of hell. His island had not been the Captain's first stop. There were many others from the main land babbling in different languages and dialects. The floor of the ship was covered in men, women, and children, chained in a laying position, forced to wallow around in their own waste. People were stacked four layers high on shelves. The slaves were each handcuffed to a partner. Helios' partner was Kian. Kian and Helios were forced onto one of the top shelves and shackled on their backs.

Helios stared up at the ceiling mere inches above his nose. There would barely be enough room to turn onto his side. It was like being buried alive but worse. Underground wouldn't be this hot and mere soil wouldn't smell this nauseating. The reek of this rancid cesspool sent his stomach rolling. He could've easily thrown up, but fought the urge. There was no telling how long he'd have to lay in it. He could hear the crew scurrying about on deck preparing to set sail Kian sighed at the sunset outside of the window next to his brother's head.

Kian spoke for the first time since the capture, "By now the women are starting to worry."

"Not yet," Helios assured him. "Right now they believe we're late. Everyone knows I'm never on time for anything."

Kian forced a smile for his brother, "At least you didn't have to take a wife."

"A wife isn't sounding so bad right now," Helios chuckled.

"Tell me about it," Kian agreed. "Mother's dead. Father's ill. I don't know who'll take care of our sisters. And I know Yaya is beautiful tonight in her wedding gown; waiting for a husband who'll never show! I'll never know what it was she had to tell me."

It was all Kian could stand. He broke down and cried. Kian had been stabbed, shot with arrows, and stared death in the face on more than one occasion. But losing his freedom, his home, and the woman he loved in a matter of hours had reduced a battle hardened warrior to tears.

Helios didn't know what to do. He patted his brother's shoulder with a heavy heart and glanced out the window. A part of Helios died as he watched the beautiful island he called home shrink into the distance. _Kian would've rather been killed in battle than sold into slavery. We all would've._ _Before my last pillage Yaya came to me and begged me to release Kian from duty. Even after she told me her reasons for this plea I refused. Now I wish I'd listened to her. There'll be no sense in telling Kian he was going to be a father…_

Up on deck Elyan sat across the fancy table from Agravaine in the captain's quarters. The table was set with polished silver and fine China; dressed with a feast great enough to feed an army while women and children starved just below deck. Elyan snarled with disgust as the fat sunburned man mauled his food like an animal.

Elyan shook his head. _And these people dare to call us savages._

"Aren't you going to eat boy? Those are mighty fine vittles you're allowing to go to waste," Captain Agravaine called in a jovial manner with a mouth full of half masticated food.

Elyan ate as a curtsey even though he didn't feel like it. He felt like ripping the captain's throat out, but refrained. _I'm greatly outnumbered on deck and this godless son of a pig is my only shot at finding my family. I have no choice but to make nice._

Captain Agravaine grinned with buttery yellow teeth. He announced half laughing, "I would never sell myself into slavery over a woman. I suppose that will teach me to never underestimate the extent of a brother's love. Make no mistake, I think you're a moron but you're chivalrous none the less; knightly if I must say. Taking your sister wasn't personal. It was just business."

Elyan nodded, "Where am I going?"

Captain Agravaine set aside the large turkey leg he'd been gnawing and sucked his fingers clean. He picked something out of his teeth and wiped his mouth and chin with a napkin.

The captain informed Elyan with a tone that felt more like a warning than informative, "You're going to be working for my nephew Arthur Pendragon."

Elyan swallowed hard at the Pendragon name. A slave once escaped the plantation and returned to their island bearing tales of the cruelty of Uther Pendragon. A chill rolled down Elyan's spine. He shook it off involuntarily. For his sister to have been sold into slavery was bad enough; but to have the devil himself in her midst was unbearable. Uther was known for lynching slaves, Indians, gypsies, and anyone else who worshiped the old religions. Uther had waged his own personal war on magic under the veil of the confederacy. Elyan's mind raced with worry. His heart swam in dread. For Guinevere, herself was of the old religion. There's no telling what Uther would do, what he might have already done. _Please be alright dear sister. I'm coming as fast as I can..._

_Several Weeks Later_

Guinevere rubbed her exhausted eyes, splashed water on her face. She'd been up most of the night with Morgana, who's nightmares elicited tortured screams well into the wee hours of the morning. Guinevere knew remedies from the old religion that might've helped but Morgana refused them for Gwen's own good. Morgana's last lady's maid had been a young Navajo girl who'd made a dream catcher. This beautifully woven artifact had ridden Morgana of her awful dreams until Uther found out and burned the dream catcher and the girl. Now Morgana sought help from her _new_ religion. As of present Gwen was helping Merlin prepare the stagecoach for their travel to the Cathedral.

Merlin gave Gwen his most infectious smile, which spread to her almost immediately.

"What is it Merlin," Gwen asked. "You've been beside yourself all day."

"Oh nothing, just training the new driver," Merlin swore unconvincingly.

Gwen turned as a man approached. The sun behind him was almost blinding. She squinted and blocked her eyes with her arm as Arthur's new driver emerged. He was average size, dark-skinned. She couldn't make out his face but there was something familiar about his stride and the way he carried himself. _It couldn't be… I'm merely tired and my eyes are deceiving me._ Gwen gave herself a mental slap and carried on with her duties. She rubbed the lead horse's soft spotted face and it whinnied. These gorgeous four-legged wonders were one of the few things she liked about the America's; that and Arthur…_It feels traitorous to even think it but there's something loveable about the young Pendragon._

"Sister," She heard a voice call from behind her.

Gwen turned. Froze. Gasped in utter shock. She slapped Elyan hard. She hugged him even harder as he swung her around.

"Elyan how could you!" She screamed remembering the day he'd returned from his hunt in time to see the slave traders sailing off with her. Gwen had screamed from the bow of that mighty ship, _"Don't you dare come after me Elyan!"_

"I told you not to come after me," She called in her native tongue; her vision blurry with tears. "My only consolation in this hell hole was knowing you'd be alright!"

"And how was I to ever be alright with my sister in a hell hole!"

They embraced one another once more. She wanted to be angry with her brother but seeing him made her very heart smile.

"I thought I'd never see you again," Gwen confessed.

Elyan vowed, never breaking the embrace, "I'm going to get us out of here."

Gwen released her brother as a warm moist sensation swept over her palms. She glared with confusion at the dark red blood all over her hands. She looked up to find Elyan's lips moving without making a discernible sound. As Elyan stumbled, spun, fell to the earth all Gwen could hear was the hiss of the air leaving his rapidly deflating lung. Merlin ran to his aide while Gwen screamed in horror. She wanted to help, needed to help, but her feet were nailed to the ground and her eyes, adhered to a very disgruntled warlord with a blood covered knife…


	3. The Love Triangle of Arthur, Gwen & Matt

The Love Triangle of Arthur, Gwen, and Mathew

Merlin held Elyan as he fought for air, gasping like a trout marooned on a sandy beach. His wound was too extensive, far beyond the reach of modern medicine. Merlin only had one way he could save him, but such methods could get the young physician executed. Merlin never asked for magic. He was born of a voodoo conjure woman; but that wouldn't stop Uther from burning him like a witch. Even if he didn't get caught the procedure it's self could drain Merlin to death. It was either his life or the life of Elyan; who was practically a stranger. Merlin made a decision as only Merlin would, and put a hand over Elyan's wound. Merlin's florescent blue eyes glowed with intensity, as if they were on fire. He braced himself for the impact of spiritual energy that would be flowing through him and he whispered a chant of the old religion.

Before Gwen could aid her dying brother Helios came after her. The ruthless warlord walked slowly and deliberately toward Guinevere with a deranged look in his coal black eyes. Helios burned with hate as he recalled sailing countless hours cuffed to the rotting corpse of a man he climbed trees with as a child, ate breakfast with, and learned to fight with. The worst part was having to stand on deck watching as they unshackled his dead brother from his arm and carelessly threw Kian's body to the sharks. Kian was torn apart and feasted on, rather than respectfully laid to rest.

Gwen screamed, "How could you hurt my brother when it's your own fault that you're here! It's your fault all of us are here!"

Helios bellowed, "I'm not going to kill you because I lost my freedom! I'm going to kill you because I lost my brother! Kian died of blood poisoning on that godforsaken ship! He was soon to be married, had a child on the way."

Guinevere pulled a small blade from her garter and hurled it at Helios. It flipped end over end as it swished through the air. Helios hollered out as it caught him in the shoulder. But that didn't slow him down for long. He lunged at her. Gwen stumbled backward. Tripped over a rock and smacked her temple against a tree. Her vision grew hazy as she drifted out of consciousness. Her eyes had to be deceiving her. One moment she was staring at the wrong end of a knife, the next she was staring at Arthur Pendragon as he fought ferociously to save her life. He was going to get himself killed and over a slave. This made absolutely no sense. Her concussed brain had to be deceiving her.

Helios and Arthur rolled about like tumble weeds pelting one another with fearsome blows. That's when a dazed Gwen spotted Merlin near Elyan. Why wasn't he helping Arthur as the warlord wrapped his massive hands around Arthur's throat and squeezed? Merlin just focused on Helios with a determined gaze and glowing eyes, murmuring under his breath.

_We're all going to die..._Gwen realized as she slipped into the black.

_Two Years Ago_

It was just after 6:00pm on the Pendragon Plantation and the sun was still blistering hot. Another grueling day in the tobacco, cotton, and sugarcane fields had come to an end. The exhausted slaves were picking their toddlers and infants up from the nursery. This plantation consisted of mostly black slaves with a hand full of poor whites. Blacks referred to these destitute white field hands as 'po bukra' because to aristocrats they were of little more importance than Negroes. Gwen stretched her aching back. Picking cotton was monotonous and tiresome. When she first arrived her fingers bled now they were covered in calluses. Gwen walked passed two slave women gossiping about how grand it would be to have a cushy position in the mansion. The house servants didn't labor nearly as hard as the field hands. The chambermaids were even given shoes!

Gwen glanced down at her bare feet; which had taken quite a beating. She smiled. _They can keep their house positions for all I care. I'd rather labor hard every day in the fields than smooze up to arrogant white folks from sun up to sun down. The house servants turn their noses up at lower ranking slaves. They snitch on their own people and snub anything to do with their heritage. I prefer the fields any day to working with a gaggle of backbiting cutthroats. The field hands have a sense of camaraderie and loyalty. It's true that in the mansion I'd have it easy, but in the field I have my friends._

A vast four-hundred field hands were congregating in the slave quarters which was like an entire village all its own. This bustling village surrounded a large pond which slave children were splashing playfully in. Men were trading goods and gambling with dice and playing cards. Women were trading gossip while scrubbing clothes on washboards.

Feminine heads turned as a striking young man walked shirtless to the pond. He carried his shirt in one hand and a knapsack in the other. Girls swooned as they watched his muscles dance beneath his sweat laden skin. He was young but built like a brick house, firm in stature for his age. He dipped the shirt he'd taken off into the pond water. He wrung it over his face, chest, and back to cool himself.

"So tell us. Is he black or white," Asked a pretty white girl with auburn hair and blue eyes.

"We simply must know," Asked an equally attractive black girl with short braided hair.

At least eight other teenage girls had surrounded Guinevere, prodding her for information on her best friend Mathew, the boy at the pond. Guinevere, a beautiful young African teen, chuckled at the drooling girls. _They only want to know what race he is because being black makes him off limits to these white girls and being white makes him off limits to the black girls. He has white features but he's so tanned no one can tell his race; especially in a place like New Orleans, with all its Creoles and Cajuns: fairer skinned people of African descent._

Mathew flashed a charming smile at Gwen and waved.

She waved back with a grin. _Mathew is no philanderer but he loves the attention from these girls. He'd be perfectly content to let them guess at his ethnicity forever. He's such a shameless flirt._

Gwen decided to have some fun with them, "Ask him yourselves. For all you know he could be married."

"I could wash these clothes on his stomach," Said a cute dark-skinned girl. "He's probably married to some frigid house servant who aint giving it to him right. After one night with me I'd have him jumping backwards over that broom in no time."

Even Gwen laughed at the girl's brashness. The other ladies chuckled too. The young slave girl was speaking of a well known ritual. Slaves jumped forward over a broom to marry and backward over the same broom to divorce.

The blue eyed white girl scoffed, "You're assuming he's black. No man that drop, dead, gorgeous could possibly be a nigger."

Somewhat irritated by the insult on her people Guinevere told the smartass white girl, "Actually he's a quadroon."

The girl gasped and stomped away, repulsed that she'd been drooling over a black man all this time. The other white girls sighed with disappointment and followed. The black girls cheered triumphantly.

Gwen grinned and shook her head. She left to meet her friend at the pond still laughing on the inside. _I don't actually know his race. I never cared to ask. The color of a person has never been important to me._

As Gwen drew closer a gaggle of black men and white men talked among themselves. Their ages ranged from mid teens to mid twenties and they ogled her: A cascade of loose curls framing a lovely brown face, a perfect round butt atop shapely legs that seemed to go on forever. Even Lancelot and Percival, the only down to earth overseers, were in on the conversation. Both were very handsome men. Lancelot was average size with dark wavy hair and piercing eyes. Percival was a man of great stature and solid muscle with light colored locks. Both he and Lancelot were orphans Arthur found eating out of his garbage. Arthur gave them jobs and they've been with the Pendragons ever since. Though they were appreciative of Arthur they hated the work. It conflicted with Lancelot's chivalrous mentality toward women and Percival's caring and empathetic nature. Percival had always been a gentle giant which Uther found to be a waste. A big strapping boy like him could certainly be of use to the confederate states of America.

Though they were overseers, Lancelot and Percival worked alongside the slaves rather than ordering them around from high on their horses. They didn't savagely whip anyone not working fast enough, yet their fields were more bountiful every season. They turned greater profits than the other overseers because slaves respected rather than feared them.

"Are you tapping that," Percival asked.

"What," Mathew asked with a blank stare.

"Have you uncrossed her legs?" Lancelot clarified.

"Hell no," Mathew swore with an annoyed expression. "Guinevere's just a friend."

"Don't take this personally but I'd really love to bed your friend," Lancelot admitted wistfully.

Percival added, "I would eat marmalade off her ass."

Mathew and the others laughed.

"Mathew," Guinevere called out as she reached the pond.

Despite her protests Mathew wrapped her in a soggy embrace. Then he trapped her in a headlock and gave her noggin a brisk rub with his knuckles.

"Damn you," She exclaimed as she fought to free herself. "You're such a child!"

Mathew laughed as a soaked Guinevere stood before him brooding and pouting.

His guy friends spoke to her in such a gentlemanly fashion she would've never guessed the perverted things they were saying mere moments earlier.

"Are you alright Miss?" Percival asked.

"Shall I grab you a towel Miss?" Offered Lancelot

"We'd hate for you to catch a chill milady."

"No thank you," Gwen politely replied. "What sweet young men."

Mathew shook his head at Gwen. _How could such a smart girl be such a horrible judge of character? Her constant need to believe the best about people is going get her hurt one day._

Mathew flung the wet shirt over his shoulder and grabbed his knapsack. He followed Gwen to their favorite spot. They chatted while throwing knives at a target on a tree. Gwen owned over fifty knives all won off of men who'd challenged her to throwing contests. She was the best Mathew had ever seen.

Mathew gave her a once over but was subtle about it;smiling to himself as he admired her form. A little distracted, he hurled a knife, which landed just outside the center of the target.

"You're getting good," Gwen commented with a smile.

"Not as good as you," Mathew said as she made another spot-on bull's-eye.

"It takes practice," Gwen assured him while nailing another bull's-eye with her eyes closed. Her hand was literally covering them.

"Oh now you're just showing off," Mathew declared and Gwen laughed.

"I have a gift for you," Mathew said as he pulled a bottle of champagne and two flutes from his knapsack.

"Eighteen summers today right?" Mathew joked.

He and Gwen were both born on this very day eighteen years ago.

She questioned, "How can you possibly afford such a gift?"

"Stole it from the cellar of this rich bastard," Mathew reluctantly explained. "You don't have to drink it now. It's yours to enjoy with whoever you choose whenever you want."

Gwen smiled and graciously accepted the gift. "Thank you Mathew. But please don't do this again. I'd hate to see you strapped to a whipping post for stealing from Arthur Pendragon. Have you ever met young Master Pendragon? I bet he's a fat, bloated, lazy bastard."

Mathew laughed, "From what I've seen slave girls seem to find the jackass attractive."

Gwen sighed, "I'd gotten you a gift but decided against giving it to you. What you got me is so much fancier it pales in comparison. And now I recall you saying a man should never wear more jewelry than his watch and his wedding band."

"Anything you got me is fine. Just give it to me," Mathew said impatiently with a grin.

Gwen shook her head, "No it's stupid."

Mathew grinned and wrestled the box from her hands. He opened the small box to find two meticulously, woven, leather bracelets.

"I made them," Gwen explained slightly embarrassed. "They're friendship bracelets. One is for you."

"And the other," Mathew questioned.

Gwen smiled, "The other bracelet is for you to give to whoever you choose whenever you want."

She grinned as Mathew tied the bracelet around her wrist.

"I'm flattered," She said as she tied the other around his wrist.

Mathew replied, "Thank you. This was a very thoughtful present. I won't lie and say I'll wear this every day. Jewelry is for women but I will wear this bracelet every year on our birthday."

"Fair enough," Gwen agreed and hugged him tight.

Mathew questioned, "Got anyone in mind to share that champagne with?"

Gwen sighed and shook her head no.

Mathew swept a soft curl from her face as he said, "Men are falling all over themselves for you and you won't even try to take a chance on one. What's so horrible about us Guinevere?"

"It isn't that simple," She replied.

"Have you ever taken a chance on anyone," He asked with concern.

"It's hard to love when you know you won't be raising a family. You're merely breeding slave labor," She explained. "I'm not sure it's right to bring an innocent child into a life of servitude."

"I understand," Mathew said quietly. "I should probably get going."

Gwen argued with herself as he walked away. _We're friends. If we cross that line we can never go back. But what if it's just for one night? If only for my birthday I should fight for what I want,_"Mathew wait."

He stopped, made an about face, "Gwen."

"Are you coming to the fish fry tonight?" She questioned.

A puzzled expression crossed his handsome face. "I'm not sure. Why?"

"Because I've realized who I want to share my champagne with." Guinevere confessed and then immediately wished she could take the words back.

Mathew smiled a little in disbelief. "I'll be late because the Pendragons require my assistance tonight. They're having some huge ball in the mansion, but if you can wait for me."

She nodded yes before he could finish the question, and she felt her cheeks grow warm with blood. He kissed her forehead tenderly, and she smiled as he walked away. _This is the dumbest thing I've ever done, but how long can I go on pretending he didn't stop my heart the moment we met. Time stood still. The world disappeared and all that remained was his face. How could just a passing glance, a chance encounter between strangers have left me breathless?_

_Much later that night:_

A few smoldering embers still burned in the bond fires as slaves retired for the evening. A disappointed Guinevere took a solo walk through the slave quarters on that extremely warm night. She wondered with tears in her eyes. _What could've caused him to stand me up?_The pond shimmered under the silver light of the moon and she caught a glimpse of Mathew swimming. He beckoned to her and she breathed a sigh of relief, smiled through her tears.

The champagne Gwen enjoyed while she waited for him had her feeling bold and adventurous. She checked to make sure no one was watching, and then took off her dress, pulled down her pantaloons and kicked them off like a burlesque dancer. Mathew turned his back as she did this. That bit of respect he showed made her want him all the more. She smiled and bit her lip as she looked at him not looking at her. She dived off the dock. Hit the water with a splash. It was cool and refreshing. He swam over to meet her and the water by the dock was shallow enough to stand up in. It barely covered Gwen's naked breasts.

Gwen begged the question, "Why'd you go for a swim before coming to see me?"

Mathew smiled, "I knew it would be hard to ignore your beauty and I didn't want you to think I only wanted sex. I care for you so I took a cold dip to avoid taking a warm one."

"How very thoughtful of you," Gwen giggled as he took her by the hands.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then she waited; waited for the inevitable engagement of their mouths. Mathew's hands slid gently over her back as he wrapped his arms around her. He held her body close to his and at last the moment came. His lips felt like two satin pillows against hers: smooth and soft to the touch. He danced gracefully within her mouth, tempting her, causing her to become even more enamored. In Mathew's arms nothing else mattered and for the first time in many moons she was free. He pulled her so close she could feel his heart beating as their lips, tongues, and wet bodies intertwined; sliding against one another in an erotic waltz. He touched caressed her breasts, her backside, the in between of her thighs as all the blood in his body went rushing to his groin. Gwen felt him hard as stone against her belly and realized how wrong his predictions had been. The swim turned out to be more of an enticing aide to their passion than a deterrent. Mathew grunted, moaned, bit his bottom lip as Gwen stroked his swollen manhood with her hand; her soft lips upon his neck, her tongue about his eager mouth. He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Her head lolled back in ecstasy as he tickled her firm brown nipples with his tongue, his lips, his fingertips. He gently pulled her forward to take her mouth again and she burned for his kisses, ached for his touch. _I don't give a damn if anyone sees us. I want him to have me right here right now._

Gwen opened her eyes and nearly died right there of shock. Her heart jumped into her throat as she saw the silhouette of Uther Pendragon staring furiously with a gang of overseers at his back.

Gwen asked in a trembling voice, "Ww… Ww… What does he want with us Mathew? Why is Master staring at us like that?"

Mathew choked out, "Because he's my father."

Uther bellowed in a voice that would quake Mt. Olympus, "Arthur _Mathew_ Pendragon! Don't even bother to reach for your clothes. It'll be much easier to cleave the flesh from your naked back." Uther turned to his goons, "Chain my son and this harlot to the whipping post. If Arthur insists on lying with the slaves I may as well treat him like one."

**Thanks for reading chapter 3 :^)**

**-Embrasia-**


	4. By Way of the Lash

_The Vision Continued…_

By Way of the Lash

Slaves came spewing from their homes as Gwen and Arthur were dragged through the commons. Uther didn't even allow them to dress first, for sake of amplifying their humiliation. He was determined to teach them a lesson.

Arthur found himself wishing he hadn't given Lancelot and Percival the night off. They would've never allowed this to happen. He was grossly outnumbered without them. And though Arthur had fighting capabilities far beyond his years, Uther had a loaded pistol aimed at Guinevere's temple. Uther finessed the trigger, itching to pull it, as he cruelly offered all twelve of his lackeys a turn with her. Her blood turned to ice at his callous words. Her heart pounded forcefully against her breastbone.

"Me first," growled a large burley man.

Arthur watched helplessly, fighting against his restraints, begging his father for mercy. Gwen screamed in terror as the monster shoved her to the hard ground. He forced himself upon her naked body. She swung her fists and feet violently, clawing hitting and even biting her attacker in a ferocious attempt to free herself. She could feel her attacker's sweaty swollen flesh pressed tightly against her. She could smell the sour odor of whiskey on his musty breath. His fellow goons cheered in anticipation of their own turn. None of them had any incentive to be their most gentle. Would she even survive such a savage attack? Gwen found herself praying for a merciful bullet, a quick and pain free death; rather than endure the dishonor and excruciating pain of a violent gang rape.

"Father no!" Arthur screamed; a single tear falling from a gray-blue eye. "If you do not allow Gwen to be ravished I'll join your ranks. I swear I will honor the Pendragon name and serve the confederacy loyally."

"Agreed," Uther said with a satisfied smile.

"Damn it," The overseer wined in a childlike fashion as he was forced to climb off of Gwen.

For the moment Gwen found herself able to breathe again. The scoundrel hadn't gotten a chance to rob her of her virtue.

Gwen cried out as they carried Arthur in the opposite direction, "Mathew!"

"Guinevere!" Arthur bellowed as they clapped her in irons and threw her in the brig: a small prison on the property for runaways, thieves, and otherwise insubordinate slaves.

The gate clanged shut and an overseer shoved her gown between the bars. Gwen donned it immediately and sat on the floor of her prison cell, rocking anxiously with her arms wrapped around her knees. The air was stale. It reeked of mold and old urine. Her bunk was a pile of straw which field mice and spiders scampered in and out of. Not that she'd sleep anyway. Who could possibly sleep while awaiting god knows what inhumane punishment? Would Uther hang her, burn her, or merely disfigure her? And what of Mathew, Arthur, or whoever the hell he is?

Tears cascaded over Guinevere's cheeks. _It's now apparent that the big fancy ball the Pendragons required his assistance for was merely his own birthday party. How could I have ever allowed myself to be so easily fooled? And why would he do this? Is it not enough for him to take my freedom did he have to rob me of my dignity as well?_

Arthur stood strapped to a tree slipping in and out of consciousness from the brutal beating he'd sustained. Arthur's back was covered in gashes, drenched in blood. It looked like hamburger meat. The other overseers stood watch as Master Pendragon lashed his son again and again. Uther Pendragon hit Arthur so many times his arm cramped and ached from the swinging. Once Uther could no longer will his exhausted arm to move he took a brief interlude to lecture his son.

The solid leather whip felt heavy coiled around Uther's shoulder as he paced back and forth in a regal and stately manner: chin up, chest out, hands clasped behind his back, a true southern aristocrat.

"I raised you better than this!" Uther bellowed. "These niggers are animals Arthur! Livestock to be bought, sold, and traded! I might as well have caught you pants down with a goddamned mule."

Uther knew that bedding slaves was like masturbation in many ways. It was something almost everyone did but no one admitted to. Most slave masters would give their sons of only thirteen summers a poor unfortunate slave girl to rape as he wished. Wealthy families couldn't take a chance on their boys impregnating unsuitable white girls, and then being forced to marry them. Nor could they run the risks of their sons catching deadly diseases from the harlots in the brothels. But this awareness didn't make Uther any less disgusted with Arthur. The only thing Uther hated more than magic was black people. The reason for this deep seeded animosity was only known to Gaius, an old friend of his.

Uther signaled for his overseers to cut Arthur down from the mighty oak splattered with his blood. They sawed at Arthur's restrains and he fell to the ground like a pile of chains.

He'd been lashed so many times he was delirious. "Father… I swear… Gwen didn't know. This was my fault. Please… Please don't do this to her."

"I'm not going to do a damn thing to her," His father assured him. "You are!"

"What," Arthur exclaimed; the callousness of his father's words smacking him out of his delirium like a cold splash of water to the face.

The overseers pulled Arthur to his feet and Uther passed him the whip still dripping with blood.

"It's time she learned her place and you would do well to remember yours," Uther said.

"No!" Arthur bellowed. "If there is a modicum of decency in you, you will not have me further betray her!"

"Think wisely son, for if you pass that whip back to me I will beat that witch to death with it," Uther warned. "I know she had to have cast a spell on you. No son of mine would ever fall for such a creature by his own will."

Head down, spirit broken, Arthur accepted the tool of Guinevere's torture and hobbled painfully toward the whipping post. In order to save her he had to hurt her...

The doctor quietly entered the plantation infirmary. Its floorboards creaked and groaned beneath his feet. The scent of various dried plants, herbs, roots and fungi engulfed him. The infirmary was a rickety structure, dimly lit by candles and kerosene lanterns. It was composed of cabinets and drawers full of bandages, vials, and containers of all shapes and sizes. The walls were lined with shelves of live animals, insects, and a vast herbarium. The furniture included just two beds and a few wooden stools. Arthur lay on his belly in agony, his back brutally sliced open by way of the lash.

The doc sighed as he pulled up a stool and sat next to him. _What a hell of a way to meet my new boss._

Arthur questioned in an exhausted raspy voice, "Where's Gaius? He's been treating me since I was in nappies."

The doc explained, "Gaius is delivering a baby so he sent me. I'm Merlin, his apprentice."

"Is Gwen alright," Arthur questioned with concern, as he recalled being forced to whip her.

It sickened Arthur to harm her. He dropped to his knees, doubled over, and threw up profusely when he lashed her at the whipping post.

Merlin assured him, "She's doing fine. You were passed out when I treated her."

Merlin nodded in the direction of the other bed in the infirmary. There Gwen rested on her belly, dots of dark red blood seeping through the bandages on her back.

Merlin dipped a towel into a bucket of water and wrung it out. Then he gingerly cleansed Arthur's wounds. Arthur groaned and flinched in pain every time the physician touched him.

Merlin stopped, "Some of these wounds are so deep they'll need suturing. I can sedate you, if you'd like."

"I never got comfortable with the concept of losing consciousness as the result of some chemical," Arthur protested. "It's embarrassing to admit but, I always feared I wouldn't wake back up. I can handle the pain just distract me."

Merlin threaded the needle and applied a local anesthetic derived from cocaine, "If you yearn to be distracted you can start by telling me how you got yourself into this mess."

As Merlin began to close the bloody trenches in Arthur's back he gripped the sides of his bed. His muscles tensed and his skin grew heavy with perspiration.

"You think me a fool right," Arthur said while Merlin stitched him up. "My friends Percival and Lancelot came to me with letters of resignation. Well Lancelot did. Percival can't write his own name. His paper was blank but I got the point."

Merlin chuckled, tied one stitch, and began another.

"They said they were sick of me living up in my ivory tower and turning a blind eye to the cruelty going on in the fields," Arthur continued. "My father's overseers were literally working those people to death. Just that day a new mother had dropped dead after being force to return to the field a couple days after she gave birth. I had the authority to change the work hours and the demands on these people but I had no idea how long of a day was too long. That's when they suggested that I work my own fields for just a week and that would give me further insight. Percival and Lancelot left for months to travel because they were so burned out on the job. Morgana was away at finishing school and my father was off to war. I'd never been so alone in my life. All I had to talk to was the house servants who didn't talk to me except for the occasional obligatory 'yes Sir' 'more tea Sir' etc… I sat at the end of that long mahogany table eating dinner alone night after night until the monotony and loneliness had driven me to a point of desperation I was willing to work my own fields. The field hands were so inviting and kind, pleasant people with a sense of camaraderie unlike anything I'd ever seen. That's when I met Gwen after work. I didn't want her to see me as the devil so I gave her my middle name instead. She invited me for dinner at her tiny cabin. It had been so long since I'd had a real conversation even longer since I'd eaten supper with pleasant company. She was beautiful and intelligent, with such a big heart. I enjoyed spending time with her and the field slaves, listening to stories, telling jokes at the master's expense. Even after Percival and Lancelot returned I couldn't bring myself to tell Gwen the truth. How was I to confess to the woman I'd fallen for that I was actually her owner and not her friend, that I was the bane of her existence?"

Gwen stirred and turned her face toward Arthur?

Her eyes welled up with tears as she addressed him in a formal manner for the first time, "young Master Pendragon, did you ever feel guilty even once?"

"For owning people, of course."

"No. For lying to me."

_Present Day_

Arthur dabbed Gwen's forehead with a cool wet cloth as she came to. She looked up at him. His image was blurry for a few seconds before eventually coming into focus. He was all suited up in his crisp military uniform: a long gray jacket with large gold buttons. His handsome face shaded by the wide brim of a hat festooned with gold accents.

He removed his hat as he noticed her beginning to stir.

"Oh God Elyan," Gwen rambled, frantically looking around.

"Shhh," Arthur calmed her. "Your brother is up and around remarkably. His wound must not have been as severe as it seemed.

Gwen breathed a sigh of relief. She smiled as Arthur examined her to the best of his ability, "I usually do this for you Sir. Thank you for saving my life."

"Someone had to act as doctor. Merlin's not doing so well," Arthur pointed to the other bed in the infirmary where Merlin rested, sweat beading on his face.

Gwen gasped and Arthur assured her, "He'll be fine."

Arthur continued sarcastically, "I don't see what his problem is. He wasn't involved in the fight. Merlin just stood there while that lunatic nearly squeezed the life out of me. Had it not been for that rattlesnake that sank its venomous fangs into my attacker, I might not have made it. The man got away so please keep an eye out for him."

Guinevere nodded and sat up in bed with blood still crusted along her hairline. She cleaned her face with the cloth as she thought. _Strange indeed, rattlesnakes aren't a native species to this region._

Arthur gathered his courage. "Guinevere I'm leaving for battle. May I kiss you goodbye?"

"Do I really have a choice? You own me," Gwen reminded him.

"Yes you have a choice," Arthur assured her. "I only wish that choice is to share a kiss with me."

"I don't understand Sir. One moment you're risking your life to save me and the next you're risking your life to keep me and my people in bondage. So are you Arthur or Mathew?" Gwen enquired. "Because if I must say, young Master Pendragon, I'm confused."

"To be honest, I'm a little bit of both," Arthur confessed. "I'm a born and bred southern aristocrat. It would taste a lie to say I didn't condone slavery as a necessary evil. I figured as long as people were decent to their slaves it was alright to own them because they were an inferior people. What my father didn't know was that I'd already enlisted in the confederate army of my own volition before I met you. I was just waiting to ship out. I kept it from my father because I wanted to surprise him with the news. But then I worked the fields and saw how bad things were. And then I met you and everything changed. I don't know how I feel anymore."

A single glistening tear drop rolled down Guinevere's cheek, "You may choose to wield the lash or my heart, but you cannot hold them both. As long as you wear that uniform we are enemies. I'm sorry but I do not have a kiss for you."

"I understand," Arthur's heart sank as he rose and walked to the door.

"But I do have just one kiss for Mathew," Gwen called.

She sprung from her bunk and he wrapped his arms around her, kissing her with every fiber of his being.

**Thank you for reading chapter four. Please review if you have a moment. I love and appreciate the feedback :^)**

**-Embrasia-**


	5. Immortal Lady of the Lake

The Immortal Lady of the Lake

Guinevere stood on Morgana's marvelous stone balcony stroking the leather bracelet which matched Arthur's. There was a magnificent view of the lake she nearly made love to him in; which shimmered majestically, appearing black at night rather than blue. This heavenly place is where Gwen often waited to be called on by her lady. She leaned forward and put her elbows on the banister; rested her cheek in the palm of her right hand. The island princess gazed longingly at the vast acres and rolling green hills. It seemed every twinkling star was out that night and she couldn't help but wonder if at that moment Arthur was watching those very stars. He'd been gone for months with no word. Was he hurt? Was he dead?

"I'm ready," her lady called and Gwen walked over to help her dress.

The air went right out of Morgana and her back snapped straight as Guinevere yanked the strings of her corset.

"I wish this garment needn't be so constricting milady," Gwen said sympathetically.

Morgana forced a smile through her discomfort, "My uncle's a stickler for proper posture and presentation. You'll actually need to pull this even tighter."

Gwen shook her head and did as she was told. _In many ways Morgana is as much a slave as I._

Morgana smiled ever so slightly. _I'll be forever indebted to Arthur for bringing Gwen in from the cotton field. After Uncle Uther burned my servant Melina I refused to take another maid. Unlike so many others Melina wasn't some broken mindless parrot who only spoke to me in repetitive obligatory phrases. Nor was she some ambitious wretch who would stab me in the back and carve my heart out with a spoon if Uther asked her. She was so much more than a servant. Melina was my friend. The other house servants merely spy on me for my uncle. I told Arthur I'd never find someone else like her, and he replied he'd seen that level of loyalty in one other, Gwen._

Morgana sat at her mirrored vanity with a morose look on her face. She touched up her makeup and spritzed herself with perfume as Guinevere stood behind her pinning her raven locks up in an elegant do. The hair pins were adorned with sparkling stones. They made the lovely, young, southern belle dazzle.

There was a knock followed by the sound of Percival's voice, "The guests are waiting milady."

Gwen went to the door and let him in.

"Is something wrong?" Percival called in response to his friend's bleak demeanor. _This is so out of character. Morgana loves to entertain._

"Please excuse us Gwen," Morgana said.

Gwen nodded respectfully and waited outside. Morgana looked up at the handsome overseer she wished was more than a friend, but her uncle and guardian, Uther Pendragon, would never condone a courtship with a poor boy. Percival and Lancelot were only allowed to attend these lavish balls for security reasons and only after a lot of bargaining from Arthur. Uther had suitors lined up from here to Europe pining for Morgana's hand.

Morgana answered honestly, "These parties are no fun without my cousin Arthur. Now that he's off to war I hate hosting these events. Having one phony aristocrat after another shove their son in my face. While Uncle Uther parades me like a piece of sirloin for the world's most eligible bachelors. They ask me questions about myself without giving a damn as to my answers. I just get the feeling that…"

"Everyone around you is trying to sell you something," Percival finished her sentence.

Morgana breathed a sigh of relief. _I'm not the only one who see's through these people._

She asked vehemently, "If I didn't have money, if I were not the ward of 'King Uther', do you believe anyone downstairs would care about me?"

"Probably not," Percival answered honestly.

Morgana huffed in frustration, "I am grateful for all I have. Most don't ever live such a privileged life, but once in a while it would be grand to spend an evening with genuine people."

"Can you trust your maid?" Percival enquired.

Morgana assured him, "With my life."

Percival opened the door and whispered to Gwen, "I need you to tell Uther that Morgana is feeling poorly. You've already examined her and she'll need to rest until morning."

Gwen nodded with a knowing smile and took off down the corridor.

Morgana gasped, "I hardly think that's appropriate."

"I don't give a damn what's appropriate tonight," Percival answered with a smile. "If milady needs an evening with genuine people, that's precisely what she's going to get. We're having dinner with commoners so dress the part."

Morgana nodded with a gigantic grin. Percival left to change out of his tuxedo while Morgana searched her closet. She rifled through her chest of drawers. _Hmmm what would commoners wear? I've never eaten with commoners before._

Percival returned twenty minutes later in his worn and faded work clothes.

He glanced at Morgana and shouted, "No, No, No, milady!"

Her eyes grew wide at his reaction. "What? This is my least expensive ensemble."

Percival shook his head. She had come down a notch but she was still dazzling from head to toe. Percival chuckled at the naïve rich girl. _I should have been more specific._

Then he listed things off on his fingers while Morgana stood with an aghast expression, "No jewelry of any kind. Clean all the makeup off your face. Take off that expensive gown. And no stupid sparkly hair pins. I'm going to need for you to literally and figuratively let your hair down."

"Master Pendragon's onboard," Gwen informed them from the doorway.

Percival instructed, "Please grab a small servant's dress for milady."

"Well alright Sir," Gwen raised a brow at the request but did as she was told without question.

"A servant's dress," Morgana gasped. "How am I to impress your friends if I look like a pauper?"

"Tonight we're going to a place we don't have to worry about impressing anyone. Your constant obsession with always looking perfect is the very reason I'm nervous to be in your presence." Percival admitted. _Damn did I really just say that?_He put a hand over his face as a blush came over his cheeks.

Morgana grinned like a vixen, "I make you nervous huh?"

Percival stumbled over his explanation wishing he could transform into Lancelot for just that moment. Lancelot always knew the right things to say.

The gentle giant took a deep breath, "It's just that you're always a work of art, always a perfect ten. I implore you for just one night to be an eight. It's easier to befriend an eight."

He passed her his handkerchief and Morgana smiled and used it to wipe off her lipstick. Next she began removing her earrings and bracelet. Gwen returned to help her change.

"Thank you," Percival said and then bowed to kiss Morgana's hand.

"Where are you going," Morgana asked Percival in a tone that mirrored a demand more so than a question.

"I was going to leave while you dress milady," Percival explained.

"No you're not. Have a seat," Morgana replied flatly.

"But… But…" Percival stammered looking to Guinevere for help.

Gwen shrugged and snickered under her breath. _Morgana is kind most days but she has a way of getting what she wants._

"This is not a request Percival. Need I remind you that you are my subordinate," Morgana picked up the letter opener from her vanity. "You will sit on that bed and wait for me, or I swear on everything holy I will cut my palm with this letter opener and scream to the heavens for my uncle. When Uther arrives I'll point the finger at you."

Percival's eyes grew round as saucers. His jaw dropped. He took a seat on the enormous canopy bed. He watched intently as Gwen stripped the layers of aristocracy off of Morgana. He loved the innocent manner in which she peeked over her naked shoulder and smiled at him; the bashful way she covered her bare breasts when Gwen removed her corset. Morgana gingerly placed her foot on a chair; slowly peeled off one lacy white stocking and then the other. Soon the layers of wealth and privilege were replaced by a humble but flattering maid's gown. Gwen tied a white apron around Morgana's tiny waist and messed her hair up a bit. Percival smiled involuntarily and bit his bottom lip as he shifted uncomfortably on the bed. There was something about seeing Morgana so simple: pretty but not drop dead gorgeous. It stirred something inside of him.

"Tease," He called.

"I wish I were. I feel plain; ugly." Morgana admitted with her head lowered.

Percival walked over to Morgana and raised her chin until her eyes met his. "You look beautiful," He said dreamily. "I'm going to give you a little insight on the male psyche. Of course every man lusts for the belle of the ball, but we'll just as soon pound the chambermaid."

Morgana gasped and gave him a playful slap on the chest, "You are truly tactless! Why would any man lay with a maid when he can have the belle of the ball?"

Percival laughed, "Because the maid is lovely in her own right. She is pleasant, approachable, and a man doesn't feel so much cause to impress her. He can be himself and she will love him just the same."

Morgana smiled with confidence and took Percival's arm. "Then I am honored to be your chambermaid."

_The Fish Fry_

"Mmmm, smells like New Orleans," Percival said as he led Morgana to the slave quarters. The air smelled good enough to eat. The four-hundred field hands had a fish fry/crawfish boil every Saturday night. There were several bond fires with folks gathered in groups of twenty and thirty; po bukra and slave alike."

Elyan called out, "Glad you both could make it, Sir. We never see house slaves at these events. They think they're better than us; except for your lovely lady of course."

The other slaves followed Elyan's lead and welcomed Percival and Morgana warmly. Every few seconds someone was saying how stunning she was and how Percival was a lucky bastard.

Even Elyan scoffed with a grin, "She's cute for a light-skinned girl."

Percival humbly and graciously accepted the complements to Morgana, who was positively speechless.

She blushed brightly. _I've never looked so plain and yet felt so beautiful. I'm stripped down to nothing and still Percival and the others think I'm lovely; not my makeup, fancy clothes or fine jewelry, but me._

Morgana cut Percival a suspicious glare. She whispered playfully to him, "They think I'm a slave! None of these people know who I am. You lying little sneak."

"If they did you wouldn't have any fun here. None of us would," Percival whispered back.

He gave Morgana a wink and she was content to play along. Morgana was taken aback as a young black girl, named Molly hugged her. She was a child of twelve or so, who Percival saved from a brutal lashing.

The girl said with a hand on each side of Morgana's face, "She is lovely Sir."

"Thank you," Morgana graciously replied.

A group of slaves started chanting at Elyan, "Folk tale! Folk tale! Folk tale!"

Elyan grinned, "Not tonight. I'm entertaining friends."

The slaves sighed with disappointment and Percival urged, "Go ahead we'd love to hear a story."

"Alright then," Elyan agreed and they passed him a drum, the top of which was made from buck hide.

He placed the strap of the drum over his chest, and the drum itself at his right hip. Word spread quickly and slaves began to gather. Everyone cheered loudly as hundreds of people walked over to join them. They began forming a humongous half circle around Elyan.

"What's happening," Morgana questioned.

"House servants," Young Molly chuckled. She informed the naïve light-skinned girl. "Story telling is an art, a sacred African ritual and Elyan is the best storyteller I've ever heard. You're in for a treat."

The slaves all took a seat on the grass, legs crossed Indian style. Percival sat back against a tree stump and pulled Morgana down with him. She sat between his legs and leaned back against his massive chest. He wrapped his big strong arms around her, leaned forward and kissed the side of her face. She smiled at the gentle caress of his lips. Morgana slipped out of her shoes, and pulled her bare feet up into her dress. There was something so freeing about tonight: sitting on the grass shoeless like she did as a child. She wasn't restrained by the death grip of a corset. Nor was she weighed down by layers upon layers of expensive fabric. She snuggled up against Percival and awaited the mythical tale.

The only one now standing was Elyan. A hush spread over his attentive audience; each waiting face glowing by firelight. He tapped his hands upon the drum creating a mellow tribal beat.

Elyan called out theatrically, "Have you heard the legend of the immortal _Lady of the Lake_?"

"No tell us," The crowd cheered.

They listened intently as Elyan said:

In a land far far away called Rome, in a time very distant. An emperor enslaved all of Europe; took anyone captive who worshipped the old religion. The masses called him Caesar but a very special young man called him father. The young man's name was Myrddin. Caesar and his men raided a pagan village not caring if their swords fell upon men, women, or children.

A pagan woman looked up with her slain daughter in her arms and cursed the savage Emperor, "Caesar! Before you leave this earth your son will become the very thing you hate. He will be a child of magic who will stand against you and all those who oppress others."

Caesar struck the woman dead. As her blood hit the ground the baby she thought was dead began to move.

"Take the Britain child. I'll need slaves for my household," Caesar instructed.

The pagan baby grew into a beautiful woman named Freya and as fate would have it Caesar's son fell madly in love with her. They married in secret and were ecstatically happy together. The prophecy had come to past and young Myrddin only had two loves in his life: Freya and magic. The lovers ran away together, escaping the harsh rule of Caesar. On the night of their one year wedding anniversary they picnicked in the forest, and Myrddin made love to Freya passionately under the stars. After which they lied together in the utopia of love, lust, and satisfaction.

"I love you," Myrddin said but heard nothing back.

This had never happened before. He tried again, "Freya I said I love you."

Again no response. Myrddin looked over to find an arrow sticking out of his wife's still naked chest, and a troop of Roman soldiers surrounding him.

"No!" Myrddin screamed.

Caesar emerged from the troops, "I'm sorry Son but she'd bewitched you. No future emperor of Rome would sacrifice everything to marry such a creature by his own will."

With too much pain to live and too much magic to die, Myrddin cast Freya's body into the Lake of Avalon. His heart leapt, smiled as she rose from the waters a goddess and guardian of the sacred city.

"You may have me only one day a year when the spirit veil is opened." She sadly told him.

He smiled, "I would rather have a piece of you than none at all."

As she faded into the blue she told him with a smile, "By the way, I love you too."

The crowd roared with applause at the end of Elyan's story. Elyan removed his drum and graciously took a bow. The slaves began to play music, dance, and feast on the gracious bounty the lake had provided them.

Percival chuckled at Morgana's expression as she tried crawfish for the first time.

"It's strange but not in a bad way," She admitted as she sat the spider-like shell aside. "I liked the way Elyan would beat his drum here and there to add dramatic effect. That story was beautiful."

"It truly is an art," Percival said over the music and multiple conversations.

Morgana sighed as she glanced around at the slave women with their babies. "I miss my mother. Well she was Arthur's mother; but I loved her all the same."

He hugged her and kissed her forehead.

She whispered to him, "Look at them all, doting on their children, feeding their toddlers the very food right off their plates. Nursing their own babies! For as long as I can remember Arthur and I always had a nanny, a governess, etc… We saw so very little of our own parents. Now the only mother I've ever known is gone forever and the only father I've ever known has become so drunk with power and hatred that he might as well be."

"I'm so sorry about your parents, but it's common among the wealthy not to tend to their own children," Percival assured her.

Morgana added, "It isn't just that though. I've been here for hours without being bombarded with investment offers, mergers, and suitors. There are hundreds of people gathered for no other reason than to enjoy each other's friendship."

"Relationships of every kind mean that much more when they're all you have," Percival explained. "I beg not to offend milady, but in some ways these slaves are freer than you are."

Morgana smiled remembering the first time she ever met Percival. Her escort had been unable to show for her coming out party at the last minute, and she was all set to make her grand entrance. She would've been humiliated. Uther yelled frantically at Arthur to find someone who could pose as her date, anyone who looked decent in a tuxedo. Arthur immediately sought out the ever charming Lancelot, who at the moment was deep in the throes of passion with some party girl. So Arthur asked Percival instead, who didn't have Lancelot's regal and debonair way. However, like Lancelot, Percival was kind, loyal, and true of heart. When he asked Morgana questions he was eager to know the answers, unlike her suitors who merely asked as a formality. Morgana took an immediate liking to this peculiar aristocrat who actually listened to her and had no taste for material things. She prayed her uncle would choose him above all the others clambering for her hand on that night. Then Uther informed her that Percival was merely a last-minute stand in and she was never to see him again. He was poor, unsuitable for marriage.

"Do you ever think about the day we met," Morgana asked.

Percival sighed, "I was merely there to look pretty in a suit. Uther never intended to give me your hand."

"If he were willing, would you want it," Morgana boldly enquired. "Would you have me right here on the soft green grass if it were alright with your employer?!"

Percival started to say something. He yearned to confess all that was in his heart, and all that was on his conscience but shut down as always, "In more ways than one, you are forbidden fruit. I must never touch you though it would please my heart to do so. I better get you home. It's long past midnight Cinderella."

Morgana's frustrated expression faded and her large green eyes filled with horror.

"What's wrong milady!" Percival shook her gently as she sat before him petrified, in a trance.

Without warning she grabbed Percival's shirt; snatched him to the side. A bullet shot past his face. It embedded in the tree where his head would've been. The music ceased abruptly. The slaves scattered frantically at the sound of gunfire.

Agravaine yelled at Uther as he brandished a wanted poster with a badly drawn sketch of Percival, "Are you insane! He's worth a fortune! We'll get the reward money and then they can execute him as they see fit."

Percival surrendered to prevent any undue injury to bystanders. Morgana couldn't stop herself from crying. Her thoughts raced in rhythm with her heart. _Is my Percival wanted for being a thief, a killer, or just for being different?_

Morgana watched helplessly as the overseers restrained Percival. She knew they would lead him to his death, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. Her mind spun at this cruel revelation. _Would Uncle Uther kill me too if he knew the truth: that I've been different all my life? I have dreams sometimes visions of the future. I saw that bullet strike Percival's head. That's how I knew to snatch him out of the way._

Uther slapped Morgana with such force it brought tears to her eyes.

"Do you realize you've allowed a black man to touch you!" Uther yelled. "He's a runaway slave who nearly killed his master Morgana!"


	6. Lt Arthur's Ultimatum

Lieutenant Arthur's Ultimatum

Dazed and confused, her jaw still stinging from Uther's slap, Morgana looked up to find Percival's hands around Uther's throat in defense of her. Uther's face turned crimson as he gasped for air. It took a dozen overseers to pry Percival off. Uther gagged, coughed, and heaved to catch his breath.

Morgana turned to Percival demanding answers as they marched him to the brig, "Is it true that you're black?"

"Only an eighth but yes milady," Percival answered. "It's why I said you were forbidden fruit. Though white men force themselves upon black women all the time, if a white woman were to lay with a black man she would be forever disgraced and they would lynch her lover."

Morgana pleaded for mercy, "Uncle please don't turn him in. They'll execute him. It's Percival, a man who's served us loyally for so many years. Does a measly eighth black blood even count?"

"Yes it counts Morgana. He's what we call an octoroon," Uther informed her as they shoved Percival in the brig with Lancelot. "I'll need to marry you off right away before the rumor mill gets started and all your prospects are ruined. You have ten minutes to say your goodbyes."

Morgana paced anxiously in front of the brig were Lancelot and Percival were detained. Both men sat in silence and shame.

Though Morgana was known to be a spoiled rich brat like Arthur, she spoke with more concern than anger which surprised them. "I am no fool. I knew from the moment we met. Neither of you were from an orphanage. Lancelot, you are fluent in four different languages. You're well educated in European literature and the arts. You know formal etiquette better than I. These are things not taught in an orphanage. And you, Percival are not a stupid man. Yet you are completely illiterate. Reading is an elementary subject you should've learned in an orphanage. I know better than anyone that we all have our secrets but I can't help you unless you're honest with me. Lancelot you can start by telling me why they arrested you."

Lancelot looked at Percival. Percival nodded, "Go ahead. It's the moment of truth."

"I was arrested for stealing private property, even though the so called property I stole was my half brother Percival," Lancelot confessed. "This charge is rubbish! My father just wants to kill Percival and have me, his protocol son, return home."

Percival offered further explanation as a look of utter confusion spread over Morgana, "If the devil had a name it would be Reverend McCain. My father was a Protestant preacher and a plantation owner. Lancelot was the legitimate heir of his estate; while I was a lowly slave bastard conceived by a quadroon woman. For this reason the old reverend named me Abomination. My father conceived me in sin but instead of punishing himself he punished my mother and me; beat us every chance he got. Lancelot's mother told him the truth about me on her death bed. Lancelot told me I'd never been anyone's Abomination, and then he changed my name to Percival. I grew into my teens and became too large for the old reverend to push around. My mom informed me he'd stopped hurting her as well and life was good. But I came home early one night and caught the reverend forcing his self on my mother. She'd merely lied in order to protect me. He'd been brutalizing her behind my back the whole time. I just snapped. I beat him to within an inch of his life. I castrated him and left him to bleed out, not caring at the time if I'd be hanged, burned, or condemned; so long as that scoundrel never laid a hand on another woman. Lancelot rescued me and we made a run for it. The old bastard survived and put a bounty on my head. We thought leaving the state of Alabama would free us and as the years went by we assumed Reverend McCain had given up his search. But he tracked us down."

_The Bloodthirsty Pack_

It was 4:00am and Percival was due to be executed in three hours. Morgana fought all night with Uther unsuccessfully. She hadn't the slightest clue where Arthur was stationed and under these circumstances General Uther Pendragon had no incentive to tell her.

Morgana returned to the prison alone, and stormed the fortress. _I want no one else punished for the atrocities I am soon to commit. The execution is still a few hours away but dawn will break in an hour. If the worst should happen I'll need the cover of night to break Lancelot and Percival out. I'll be damned if I stand by and watch the man I love executed because he has a thimble of black blood. If he were completely white law enforcement would've praised him for defending his mother._

There were two uniformed men patrolling in front of Percival and Lancelot's cell. Morgana hid behind a tree and removed a small gun from her garter. She aimed at the first officer, braced herself, and pulled the trigger. The officer plummeted to the ground with a painful wail. Blood poured from the wound in his leg.

As the other deputy reached for his weapon Morgana called, "I don't want to kill you but I will! Throw me your guns and the keys to that cell!"

The officers obeyed and she ordered, "Both of you lay on your stomachs with your hands behind your heads."

As the officers sprawled out on the ground Morgana unlocked the gate to the cell. Lancelot and Percival retrieved the pistols the officers abandoned. Morgana ordered the deputies into the prison cell and locked the gate behind them.

She assured the officer she shot in the leg, "I'll send help for you. Keep pressure on the wound for now."

Morgana, Lancelot and Percival fled the prison and entered the nearby woods. The branches snagged and ripped their clothing as they ran blindly through the forest. They forged in the direction of the getaway carriage Morgana had waiting at the west side of the woods. They traveled for what seemed an eternity before the sun began to rise. Out of breath with their sides cramping, they pushed forward. She stopped as her head ached with a horrible vision.

Morgana pointed in the direction of the stagecoach, "Go on! Running with me will only make things worse for you. I'll return to the plantation and wait for Arthur to come home. He can still fix this."

They protested leaving her, and she lied, "I'll be fine and I'll see you again."

Percival couldn't see her vision. He had no clue of the imminent danger she was in. He kissed her lips with enough passion to set her soul on fire and then he disappeared into the woods with Lancelot. She took off in the opposite direction of them to better their chances of escape, and she would hide out in the wine cellar until the coast was clear.

Morgana's blood turned cold and bumps rose on her skin as she heard the faint sound of dogs in the distance. _I'm being hunted like an animal. Now I know what it's like to be a runaway slave. The dogs will have caught up with me soon! I'm not going to make it to the cellar!_

Morgana's heart pounded as the barking and snarling grew closer. She ran as fast as her feet would carry her. A ferocious mutt lunged out of the darkness at her. It got a mouthful of her dress. She screamed in agony as a second dog latched onto her forearm. It tore and ripped at her flesh. Utter panic set in as she spotted the rest of the bloodthirsty pack barreling down on her…

_The Battlefront_

The heavy odor of gunpowder enveloped 1st Lieutenant Arthur Pendragon. Gunfire rang in his ears and cannons boomed in the distance as he stood over a table in a large tent plotting out his charts. He planned the cavalry's strategy while ignoring a war consultant.

"Sir, are you even listening!" A pale man with greasy dark hair yelled; his thin lips tightening beneath a thick black mustache.

"No actually I'm not," Arthur replied candidly.

The man gasped as Arthur said, "You are not a military man. You are an actor Mr. Booth, a pampered stage performer. You are a radical fundamentalist who'll create more harm for our cause than good. I believe you to be a back shooting coward and I will no longer require your assistance."

"I'm trying to help us win," Shouted John Wilkes Booth.

Arthur shoved a list at him, "Then sign up for the army and fight like a man, rather than wearing makeup and prancing around on stage like a woman."

Booth shuddered as he looked at the enlistment sheet; all those names scratched off due to casualties, "I… I can't."

"That's what I thought," Arthur declared with a finger and pointed at the exit. "Get out."

Arthur shook his head. _Where does father find these loons? Thank God for Merlin, who thinks I brought him along to be my physician, but I actually brought him here to be my counsel. Merlin is wiser than I give him credit for._

"Merlin!" Arthur bellowed.

Merlin popped into the tent. _Must Arthur always shout my name as if the sky is falling?_

Merlin straightened his tie with a bright smile and a look of pride, "You know everyone else here calls me Dr. Emrys."

"Everyone else wasn't nearly strangled while you were taking a sick day Dr. Merlin Emrys," Arthur shot back.

Merlin gritted his teeth. _I conjured the snake that saved you. You unappreciative prat._

Arthur called out with a laugh as he remembered the fight Merlin _failed_ to assist him with, "Maybe you should've stayed home from war with the ladies."

"Dollop head," Merlin snapped. "You are truly an ass."

"Hey, I'm a high ranking officer," Arthur reminded him. "You must address me as such."

Merlin straightened up at once, gave a salute, and stood at attention, "My apologies Sir, you are an ass Lieutenant Pendragon Sir!"

Arthur shook his head and let it go for now, "Merlin I just wanted to say you were absolutely right about that Booth character. He made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. There was something not right about him."

Merlin nodded, grinning on the inside. This was the closest Arthur had ever come to thanking him.

Arthur asked the question that had been burning at the back of his mind since they left, "Merlin why would you follow me to war when you don't believe in slavery?"

"Because I believe in you," Merlin answered. "You're destined to free the people Arthur."

Arthur laughed hysterically, "Who do you think I am, Moses? Just when I think you might be wise you spew a response to the contraire. You do realize I'm a confederate soldier."

"No," Merlin shook his head. "You are a knight you just don't know it yet."

_There are times when it seems as if Merlin has more faith in me than my own father._Arthur nodded respectfully, "That'll be all Dr. Emrys."

Merlin returned his nod and walked out into the foggy atmosphere beyond.

Arthur finished his charting and ventured outside, the cool morning air smelling like the fourth of July. He gazed up at the still visible stars in the heavens yearning to neither betray his men or the black woman he'd been forbidden to love. _Merlin is right to a degree. With each passing day my heart grows conflicted about slavery and even more conflicted about Gwen. But it's not as if I make dresses for a living. This isn't a job I can just quit. Deserters are put in front of a firing squad and riddled with bullets._

Arthur pulled a worn leather bracelet from his pocket, brought it to his lips and kissed it. _Guinevere if I could create my own world you would be the queen of it..._

_The Chase_

Morgana dug her thumb and middle finger into the eyes of the beast that sank its teeth in her arm. It let go with a high pitched yelp. She screamed as another leaped in the air for her throat. Before it could grab her, the dog fell on its side with a squeal; a knife sticking out of its ribs. Morgana climbed a tree to escape the rest of the animals that were so hungry for her blood. She gave the dog still attached to her dress a forceful kick. It held fast. Her second kick sent the monster crashing to the ground. Looking down Morgana found two other dogs killed with knives. _But who?_ She wondered as her tree became surrounded. There was no escape. There had to be at least a half dozen dogs jumping and snapping at her feet, barking ferociously.

"Looks like we caught him," She heard an approaching man say.

It was Agravaine. He gasped as he saw Morgana in the tree instead of Percival.

Agravaine shouted an order to the overseers and deputies at once, "Put a leash on these hounds! Did you seriously sick the dogs on the ward of Uther Pendragon! You're all idiots! These animals could've ripped her throat out!"

Agravaine grabbed the burly man by the collar who nearly raped Gwen, "You've really put my ass in a sling with this stunt! Take this woman to the nurse and cut her loose."

The large man shouted in his own defense, "She shot an officer and sprung a fugitive from prison."

"You had just better hope the general doesn't find out," Agravaine warned. "You can come down Milady. It's safe now."

She vigorously shook her head no, and clung to the tree for dear life. Agravaine pulled the hysterical woman from the tree.

He covered Morgana with his coat, and she stammered, "The… the… there's an injured man at the prison."

Agravaine assured her, "I know. We've taken care of him. He's going to be fine."

As Agravaine led her out of the woods he asked, "What will it take to keep this incident from getting back to Uther."

Morgana answered with her voice still shaky from the ordeal, "Call off the search, please. Give them a fighting chance."

A gigantic weight lifted from her heart as Agravaine ordered his men to stop pursuing Lancelot and Percival. Morgana turned and noticed her lady's maid perched high on a tree limb. She gave Gwen a nod of appreciation and respect.

Morgana walked away holding her wounded arm. _If not for Gwen those beasts might have killed me. I owe her my life._

_The Ultimatum_

Arthur trotted back and forth high upon his steed in front of his company of soldiers; All of them standing neatly in formation. His front to the masses his back to a river, Lieutenant Arthur Pendragon barked his Captain's orders at the troops.

Meanwhile two union scouts who'd breeched the confederate line plotted their next move. The young one passed the older one a worn telescope.

The older man grinned and adjusted the cannon, "Always aim for the ones on the horse lad. The ball will explode on impact and take out much of the troop any way."

At those words the younger man loaded the cannon; aimed for the officer atop the horse. He lit the fuse and the cannon boomed. The cannon ball sailed rapidly through the air. Arthur looked up to see the mass of deadly metal whistling toward him. Before Arthur could process the imminent danger, the cannon ball ceased abruptly. The soldiers gasped, the enemy gasped as the cannonball sat stationary upon thin air. Arthur turned to find Merlin, hands out, blood dripping from his nose as he deflected the explosive. It landed in the tent which exploded before Arthur's eyes. The impact of the blast and the flying debris knocked Arthur's approaching captain out. The captain went flying into the river, too helpless to save himself from drowning. The union scouts fled at the unbelievable site. Arthur fought to get his horse under control, before the animal threw him and broke his neck.

Merlin jumped into the river and pulled the captain out. The cold water revived the man at once.

The soaked blond haired commanding officer ordered, "He's a warlock! Bind his hands so he can't use his magic. We'll burn him at dusk."

Arthur, still overcome with disbelief, shouted, "Are we to burn the man who saved our lives! This man is my friend captain."

As the men seized Merlin and bound his hands, Arthur instinctively pulled his pistol.

"Release him," Arthur demanded. "Or all our blood will stain these waters!"

The men restraining Merlin backed away slowly.

"Stand down Lieutenant," The captain called with a revolver aimed at Arthur. "That's an order soldier!"

Arthur looked back and forth between his friend and his commanding officer, never having been faced with such an Ultimatum. All he ever wanted to do was serve his cause and his father honorably. But if the oppression of anyone different, the systematic rape of women, and now the brutal execution of a friend was the confederacy's idea of honor, then Arthur Pendragon wanted no part of it. He'd given his whole life to defend that red flag with the blue cross over it. And what had that flag ever given him besides the beating and near rape of the woman he loved?

"You have three seconds to lower your weapon soldier," The captain warned. "One! Two!"

The bullet just missed Arthur's throat who instinctively returned fire catching his commanding officer square in the heart. As the body spun, fell, collided with the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust the whole regiment came running at Arthur and Merlin.

"Any ideas Merlin!" Arthur shouted as they backed clear up to the river.

The charging soldiers stopped in their tracks. Arthur turned slowly and cautiously to see why. To his astonishment there was a beautiful young woman floating majestically above the river. Her gown and hair flowing about her.

"M… M… Merlin," Arthur whispered. "It's a ghost."

"No, a goddess," Merlin corrected him.

She smiled and held out her hands, and a sword materialized between them. Take this Arthur Pendragon and good luck to you. Arthur accepted the magnificent medieval looking sword the inscription on the handle _Excalibur._

It seemed the longest and most amazing moment of Arthur's military career, but in reality Freya had appeared and gone in a matter of seconds. The once stunned soldiers where charging full speed ahead at them.

"Free my wrists," Merlin told him.

Arthur sliced the ropes and Merlin snatched them off. Arthur wielded the sword amazed at how comfortable it felt in his hands; the familiarity of its weight. Arthur fought off the men charging him with gleaming bayonets atop long rifles. He moved with unexplainable speed and skill while Merlin used his magic. Before long they'd subdued all the troops except the ones who ran screaming.

Arthur and Merlin collected what supplies they could and boarded horses.

"We must head north," Merlin told him. "You're a wanted man now."

"Not without Guinevere," Arthur replied. "I love her. I don't care if we have to run to Canada, France, or hell to be together. I'm going to marry her."


	7. Revelations

Spells, Prayers, & Revelations

A dainty young maid passed Arthur a steaming cup of tea. She was fair skinned, with bright blue eyes, and a few tendrils of brown hair escaping her turban. Arthur sipped the bitter sweet brew as his legs hung off the side of his bunk. _Thank heavens I have friends who are willing to harbor us._

Merlin slept in the bunk below him snoring softly, his wiry arm wrapped affectionately around a pillow as he murmured the name _Freya_. Arthur chuckled to himself._It seems Merlin has a bit of a fancy. The whole way here he couldn't shut up about how beautiful and amazing she was, and what he'd do if he was blessed with just a few hours alone with her. I didn't know Merlin was capable of using such language. That cute little goddess made quite an impression. I couldn't bring myself to tell the poor bloke she was already married; according to legend that is._

Arthur passed the maid a generous tip and said, "My thanks to you and your gracious master."

The girl smiled, "I bid you goodnight young Master Pendragon."

"No, just Arthur from now on," He corrected. "I long to be no one's master."

The maid nodded respectfully, blew out his candle, and excused herself. Darkness fell over the tiny cell of a room, and the subtle burnt smell of a freshly blown out candle braced Arthur's nose. Arthur finished his tea and sat the cup on the bedpost. He lied between the sheets dreamily clutching his leather bracelet. _Though a foolish and risky endeavor, I'm leaving for New Orleans at first morning's light. I only hope the Confederacy hasn't gotten there first. I've lied to Gwen, betrayed her, and even lashed her. I doubt she'll still have me, but I know I'll regret it for the rest of my life if I don't at least try. She may be nothing more than a lowly slave to my father, the Confederacy, even the world; but in this lifetime and the next she will forever remain the queen of my heart..._

The young maid returned to the master of the house and informed him, "They drank every bit of it."

Agravaine replied with a satisfied smirk, "Good job my dear."

Agravaine ventured down the hall and slipped into Arthur's chamber. He pulled Merlin's hands away from the pillow he named Freya and bound them behind his back. Merlin didn't even groan in protest. He'd taken such a liking to the serving girl's special tea that he'd had at least three cups. A hurricane couldn't wake him now.

"Uncle, what are you doing," A dazed Arthur inquired peering down from his bunk.

"Easy boy," Agravaine insisted. "You've consumed a poison I collected from my trips to Africa. The natives use it to lace their darts with."

Arthur jumped out of bed, but his legs felt like spaghetti noodles. They gave beneath him and he collapsed on the floor with a boom. The tea cup balancing atop his bedpost came crashing to the floor, shattering in a hundred white fragments. With his whole body tingling, and his legs paralyzed, Arthur rolled onto his belly. He inched on his elbows over a cold floor, the wet glass shards biting into his forearms. He was determined to get to his sword. Arthur froze at the sound of the unmistakable clink of Agravaine drawing back the hammer of his pistol. Arthur turned onto his back and peered up at his betrayer; the alternating moonlight and darkness casting shadows over his face.

"Why," Arthur demanded.

"For the same reason I got you busted at the lake a year ago," Agravaine confessed. "I'm sorry but Uther pays me a lot of money to keep tabs on you."

The only thing the now paralyzed Arthur felt was raw fury burning inside of him, "If I could move just one hand I'd use it to rip your heart out! You traitorous bastard!"

"Tie him up," Agravaine ordered his wench.

Arthur's vision grew hazy and the room began to whirl around him. Once he'd lost consciousness Agravaine made his way to Arthur's sword, which was standing upright in the corner.

"Excalibur," Agravaine hummed. "Nice sword nephew. I think I'll be keeping it."

_Tears by Firelight_

Uther restlessly walked the open corridors of Pendragon mansion, which appeared more like a castle. It was multi-leveled with large white pillars, an enormous sturdy structure of marble and polished stone. Uther grimaced with fury pulling at his own hair from the earlier news of Arthur's mutiny. _How could he do this! And it couldn't have happened at a worse time. Morgan was due to be married tomorrow. I had to call off her ceremony until Arthur is brought to justice. I would hate for a wedding to be interrupted by bullets and bloodshed! And Morgana almost appeared to be smiling at the news. I'd think she would be in as big of a hurry as I to salvage her reputation._

Uther stopped at the sound of crying coming from a parlor room. He peeked in. There Gwen sat mending in front of the fireplace, tears pouring over her cheeks as she babbled in another tongue. It was at least the third time he'd found her like this. Uther stealthily called one of his well compensated snitches who spoke several languages.

"What spell is that witch casting on my son now," Uther asked the young man while they eavesdropped on Gwen.

The slave listened for a while and then replied, "She isn't casting a spell at all Master Pendragon. She's praying that your son is not hurt and that the Gods will keep him safe from harm." The slave listened a bit longer. "Now she says that her brother had convinced her to runaway, but she couldn't after news of the mutiny. She yearns to have her forbidden soldier back in her arms, no matter the price."

"You're dismissed," Uther snapped with a distraught look.

As the servant's feet padded down the hall Uther never felt more confused. _Is it possible that she actually… loves Arthur? Is it possible Arthur… loves… Gwen?_The brows furrowed on his regal face and he ran a hand through his short gray hair._Was Arthur willing to bed her merely for sake of his own passion, and nothing otherworldly or malevolent? Absolutely not!_Uther declared as Gwen wiped her tears and added more stitches to the fabric. _That snitch was lying! Gwen had to have cast a spell on Arthur. No black woman could actually love a white man…_

_Judgment Day_

The following morning Arthur sat locked in the brig along with a still unconscious Merlin. Agravaine had dumped the fugitives and split before dawn with a hefty bounty. Betrayal wasn't a pretty business but it was certainly profitable.

Meanwhile Gaius, an older man with shoulder length gray hair, paced back and forth in General Uther Pendragon's office. Three Confederate soldiers stood just outside the enormous floor length window.

Gaius argued, "Have you become so mad with power and hatred you would betray your own son?"

Uther stated in his own defense, "Need I remind you that it was your apprentice who got my son into this mess! And if Arthur's willing to betray his father and his cause for sake of a Negro wench and a warlock, then he's no son of mine!"

"Arthur never betrayed you! She did!" Gaius yelled, "Your war on magic, your hatred of black people, all because of her!"

"Watch your tongue old friend, and don't ever mention that witch again," Uther snapped. "I'll see to it that Arthur get's a fair trial."

"They're lying to you Uther," Gaius said as he pointed at the gallows. "They're preparing to hang your son on your own front lawn! Wake up friend. They have no intention of giving Arthur a fair trial."

Uther stormed outside, taking a quarter mile venture to the slave quarters. He walked past the whipping post covered in blood, which had baked and dried in the sun. He unlocked the cell; snatched Arthur up by the arm. Uther locked Merlin back in the cell. He would deal with him later. _The only one the confederacy is concerned_ _with is Judas here._ Uther determined as he led his own son to the gallows. Arthur, still groggy from being drugged, followed his father without much of a fight. He barely knew what was going on and soon they were standing before three Confederate officers.

The tall officer in the middle drawled, "Arthur Pendragon, for crimes against your commanding officer and fellow soldiers you are here by convicted of treason! Have you anything to say for yourself?"

A delirious Arthur growled, "I'd rather die for something than live for nothing!"

Before Arthur could blink Uther swept his legs out from under him. Arthur hit the ground hard as a cacophony of gunshots rang overhead. Were his intoxicated eyes playing tricks on him? _Is father shooting his own soldiers?_

Two of the officers fell before Uther himself felt the excruciating bite of hot led ripping through his side. He gripped the wound; fell to the ground. The last officer lifted the bayonet high above Uther's chest. Uther clenched his eyes, accepting certain doom but the stabbing didn't come. Instead of finding himself painfully impaled he found a knife protruding from the officer's chest. Much to his surprise the handle was still attached to Gwen's trembling hand. The soldier fell back stone dead on the courtyard. Arthur cradled his father hollering for Gaius who came running out of the mansion at once. Gaius knelt by Uther concerned for his friend and at the same time proud of him.

"You had me worried for a moment," Gaius admitted as he immediately went to work.

"How's that for a fair trial," Uther said to his old friend, "I had to make them believe I'd turn Arthur in. I knew they were listening outside of my window, and if I could convince you I knew I could convince them."

Uther caught a glimpse of Arthur and Guinevere wrapped in each other's arms. Their mouths were moving frantically as they looked on with concern. But Uther was losing so much blood he couldn't make out the words. As Uther faded into the black he begged one question: _Why in hell would she save me…_

_With this ring_

Arthur sat in Uther's bedroom as Guinevere changed his dressings. She peeled off the saturated bandages and applied sterile ones.

Uther asked, "How am I doing?"

Gwen hesitated before lying, "You're doing fine Sir."

Uther released a painful laugh, "That was the nurse answer. Now give me the real one."

Arthur's eyes welled up as he said, "You're bleeding internally father. You have hours left maybe a day."

Uther nodded, accepting dreadful news that would've reduced the strongest of men to tears. Arthur and Gwen were amazed by this.

"Where's Morgana?" Uther asked.

"She became hysterical at the news. Gaius is pulling her together as we speak," Arthur explained. "What made you change?"

"The tears of a maiden," Uther admitted taking Gwen's hand.

She gave his hand a comforting squeeze while wiping away a tear.

"I realized I was wrong about her," Uther confessed. "I realized I was wrong about a lot of things. That clarity made me see what was most important. And I loved my son more than I hated my enemies."

"Why were those of dark skin and magic your enemies," Arthur questioned.

Uther sighed, "Do you know what a kept woman is?"

Arthur nodded, "Blacks and whites aren't allowed to marry legally in New Orleans so some wealthy white men will enter an agreement with a black or biracial girl's father. They will promise to give a lifetime of love and financial support to these girls. The couples will have a wedding ceremony, live in a marriage-like state, and even have their children christened. What does this have to do with anything?"

"After my mother died of mysterious causes my father took a kept woman; a wicked voodoo priestess by the name of Nimueh," Uther said. "Nimueh had been given to my father when he was very young to slake his lust and for this degradation she sought revenge on the Pendragon's. Her first step was to get my father obsessed with her. She would collect his hair and make dolls out of it, cast spells on him. Once, another servant caught Nimueh putting her menstrual blood in my father's food. Father believed the witch and hung the other slave for speaking against her. But soon my father had to take a lawful wife, which the witch saw as the ultimate act of betrayal. My mother's heart just stopped and I found her dead. A few months later my father took Nimueh as his kept woman. As a lonely child I was ecstatic to gain a new mother. I cared not about the color of her but the death of my mother wasn't enough for Nimueh. She needed my father to prove she'd never come second to anyone ever again. She would have him beat, neglect, and torture me, to prove his devotion to her until the day his heart mysteriously stopped beating. I ran away from home and lived among the Apache Indian's who accepted me until I wanted to marry one of their own. They banished me and my pregnant wife. But as the lawful heir of my father's estate I was now old enough to claim my birthright. I dethroned the tyrannical witch and lived happily with my wife. I didn't care that our marriage made no difference in the eyes of the law so long as it made a difference in the eyes of god. I was building a crib for the nursery when I found my wife cold as ice. A voodoo doll with a pick in its breast leered up from the floor of her chamber. I turned to find Nimueh on the lawn fleeing the scene. I put two bullets in her chest and cast her body in the river. While Gaius cut the belly of my dead wife in order to save the life of our son. You came out underweight and as blue as a berry but you survived."

"You're not making sense father," Arthur declared. "My mother's name was Ygraine and she was no Indian!"

"Ygraine was every bit your mother, but she did not give birth to you. I had a sick newborn and a recently orphaned niece I hadn't a clue what to do," Uther admitted. "Ygraine was the disgraced sister of a poor man who sharecropped my land named Agravaine. She'd recently lost a bastard so I hired her to be your wet-nurse and nanny. I fell in love with her and decided to marry her in order to restore her honor."

Gwen rubbed Arthur's back to comfort him. He felt like a ton of bricks had been dumped on him.

Uther smiled at Gwen, "So are you intending to marry my son, or are you content with banging him in sin for all eternity, while using my lake as your personal love nest?"

Gwen's cheeks reddened with humiliation. She buried her face in her hands.

Arthur gasped, "Father I hardly think this is an appropriate time for such a talk."

"Time is not a luxury I can afford Arthur," Uther told his embarrassed son.

With great effort Uther pried off his wedding band and Gwen passed him a jewelry box that was just out of his reach. A pleasant melody swept the air as he pulled a lady's ring from it, and with the smack of the lid the music left as quickly as it came. Uther passed both plain gold bands to Arthur.

Uther informed them both, "As a former magistrate I have the authority to ordain a marriage. Meet me out back at dusk."

Morgana, who'd been watching from the doorway for quite some time, came running in blinded by her tears. Uther embraced her and kissed the top of her head; urged her to stop her sobbing.

Gwen protested, "Sir, with all due respect, you shouldn't be up and around."

"I know I wasn't the best father or even a good one for that matter. But even a man as wicked as I deserves to see at least one of his children get married," Uther declared as he placed Guinevere's hand in Arthur's. "Don't take that from me."

Arthur and Gwen traded looks, and then smiles. Gwen found herself speechless, breathless as he climbed down on one knee, her heart racing, tears welling up in her eyes. Arthur's eyes gazed up at her, one of her hands in his, the other hand trembling over her mouth. No longer a soldier and a slave just a man and a woman, Gwen reached out to feel the stubble on his face just to make sure he was real; that all of this wasn't some dream she'd wake up from.

"The circumstances for our union aren't ideal but I'll take imperfect obstacles over impossible ones any day," Arthur vowed. "Guinevere my love, my queen, you are the very heart and soul of me. Without you I am merely a conflicted soldier, a broken man; but with you I feel like a king. I implore you to give me the privilege; nay, the honor of having you as my wife… "

**Thank you for reading chapter 7. Drop a line if you have a sec :^)**

**-Embrasia-**


	8. With This Ring

With This Ring

Guinevere's heart pounded at the site of Arthur on one knee asking to wed her and vowing to free her people. Too overwhelmed to find words Gwen nodded her head in agreement. Arthur sprung to his feet. He embraced her and swung her around, deliriously happy she was his at last. Then he laid a phenomenal kiss on her. This kiss was more than passionate and beautiful, it was familiar. She'd kissed her husband of twenty-four years, not her fiancé of twenty-four seconds.

Gwen stood dizzy from his kiss. He'd left her breathless. _My heart stopped the moment I met him because it wasn't the first time we'd met. I knew him in another life, another time and the Gods have given him back to me._

Morgana assured her uncle, "I'll get Gwen together."

Morgana yanked on the bell pull and informed the approaching servants, "Make haste! There's a wedding to be had."

At sunset Arthur and Gwen publicly proclaimed their love for one another in the most elaborate wedding anyone had ever witnessed for a slave. The wedding was held in the orchard with a multitude of flowers and decorations. The master himself had presided over the ceremony. Elyan reluctantly gave Gwen away while asking every step of the flower laden path if she was sure she wanted to marry the white devil.

Their reception smelled of jasmine and fine cooked venison. Master Pendragon provided an abundance of gourmet food and champagne; enough to serve over 400 guests. Folks were playing banjos, harmonicas, fiddles, and drums while smiling, laughing, dancing, and bearing homemade gifts. The music was fast and rhythmic. And for the moment people could forget: forget that Uther was dying, forget that the plantation would be swarming with Confederate troops in a matter of days, for the moment everyone forgot and just lived.

Arthur smiled as he saw his father dressed in his Sunday's best having a toast and a laugh with Gaius. Arthur picked up his bride and swung her around as they danced well into the evening. He didn't have to tell Gwen how happy he was. She could see it, feel it and she felt the same exact way. The very night Gwen feared might never come turned out to be the best night of her life. The music slowed and every pair of lovers on the plantation took center stage. Arthur looked around. _I know how to dance but not like this._ He declared as he observed everyone else. _Their dances are closer, more provocative, almost sexual._ _Oh well, when in Rome…_

Arthur pulled Gwen's body close to his and she placed her hands at the back of his neck. She felt like a princess as their bodies moved as one beneath the stars, bathed in the light of the moon.

Gwen looked up at Arthur and asked wistfully, "Dear husband what was your favorite part?"

"With this ring I thee wed," Arthur answered with a smile. "And yours my love?"

"You may now kiss the bride," Gwen answered and Arthur took this as an invitation.

Hours later Gwen found Arthur by the fireplace in his chamber deep in contemplation. By the time Merlin revived Uther was long gone. Merlin regretfully informed Arthur that there were limits to his magic. He couldn't undue dead. Gwen walked up behind Arthur's chair and grasped his hand. He locked fingers with her, brought her hand to his lips and kissed it affectionately.

She informed him, "I just wanted you to know that I'm not expecting anything tonight. I know you just lost your father."

Arthur kissed her hand again, and then her wrist, and up her arm.

Gwen protested as she fought to ignore the tingling between her legs, "Arthur you don't have to do this. We have the rest of our lives to be naked together."

"I need this Gwen," Arthur vowed. "I need to feel something other than pain and confusion. I yearn to love you, feel you… from the inside."

He stood up before her in nothing but a soft pair of pants that even in this dim light was not hiding his desire for her. He took her mouth hungrily and passionately as he slid up her gown, breaking the kiss for just long enough to pull the garment over her head and discard it. He grew hard as steel as he caressed her naked back and felt the lash marks: the very scars she attained because she loved him. She unlaced his pants expecting them to fall. She giggled softly as they caught on his erection, but Arthur found a way out of his cloth prison. Gwen took site of him in all his glory and felt scared for the first time that loving him would hurt. He lifted her by her bottom; his tongue intertwined with hers, and before either of them knew what was happening he'd taken her to his bed; laid her on the cool linens. Arthur ripped the panties off of Guinevere, refusing to be further delayed from a taste of what was rightfully his, a gift that only she could provide. He kissed her beautiful body, suckled, and laved it and she was content to watch, follow, and allow him to take of her as he wished. His mouth met hers in a cindering kiss that overwhelmed both their senses as he caressed her between her thighs with his fingers, gently massaged, and then delved into her wet heat. Her back arched beneath him, her moan trapped within his kiss she moved longingly inviting his touch, but he backed away with a smile. _Not yet._Gwen cried out with desire as Arthur put his mouth were his hand had been, gingerly licking and suckling upon the sensitive bud between her lower lips. Her fingers brushed over his golden locks while he used his soft wet tongue and lips to massage the delicate folds between her legs.

Her heart racing, her nipples so hard she thought they would break, Gwen said, "Make love to me Mathew."

Arthur smiled at the affectionate pet name, paused for a moment just to look at his lovely bride laid upon his bed: chocolate nipples on caramel colored breasts, the indent of her waist, the flair of her hips, her beautiful hair spilled out on the sheets. Her large almond eyes looked up at him as if to say, _I'm yours._ His jaw clenched and he lowered himself upon her.

She whispered in a breathless, wanton, tone as he covered her neck in tender sweet kisses, "I love you Arthur. From the moment I met you I loved you."

"I love you Guinevere and I'm sorry I ever lied to you," He vowed between kisses.

"I'm not," she assured him. "I'd take a hundred lashes if it meant that we'd end up here."

The spirited island girl was now his captive. Arthur possessed her body and soul, and he was soon to explore his newly conquered territory. Gwen braced herself for the moment they would join and become one, the moment they'd both receive what they'd denied themselves for so long. Her body quivered beneath him with fear, lust, anticipation until at last the moment rang free; her every muscle tensing as he delved into her, stripping her innocence but giving her so much more. Arthur released a shocked breath reveling in the warm wet grip of his beloved Guinevere, and he soon realized he was as much her captive as she was his. But it hurt Guinevere when he entered her body, so bad she was unable to hide it from him. He paused and looked down at her.

His dazzling blue eyes darkened with concern, "We can stop."

She held his broad manly torso and traced her fingertips over the bumpy terrain of his back. She felt the scars from his whipping and they were like a love letter written in brail. She put one hand on the back of his head, pulled him down into a smoldering kiss, even more turned on by the subtle taste of herself on his lips. She embraced the delicious pain rather than ran from it and Arthur made love to her hungrily and passionately. His rippling chest gently brushed over her nipples with every forward and backward motion as she wrapped her shapely legs around his naked body. Gwen surrendered herself to the pleasure, pulled him into her deeper still as he drove into her with a smooth and steady rhythm. She hadn't even noticed she was scratching him, but he didn't seem to mind. Her nails on his naked back only encouraged him to delve further into uncharted territory. Her back arched off the bed and she gasped. Her body trembled beneath him as a tear fell from her eye. He realized she had climaxed but he was determined to give her another, one she wouldn't soon forget. He found the sacred spot he'd struck before and beat it like a drum until he heard that familiar whimper, and it was her second steamy release that pulled him over the edge with her. His hips speeding up as passion mounted inside of him. His final thrusts were sporadic in rhythm and depth as he filled her with his sweet nectar. He collapsed upon her breasts, and she kissed the top of his head, ever so gently running fingers through his locks. A warm tender minute ticked by before he withdrew from her and lied on his back. He looked over at his true love, still breathing heavily, his skin moistened with perspiration.

Arthur French kissed Guinevere and whispered, "I love you. Thank you for giving yourself to me."

She nuzzled up on his shoulder and he embraced her, placed a soft tender kiss upon her forehead.

"I'm embarrassed," Guinevere admitted feeling a flush in her cheeks.

"Don't be, I wanted to please you," Arthur assured her. "It lets me know that if only for a moment in time, I've made you happy."

_The Morning After_

It was the best night of their lives followed by the worst morning. Morgana ran in, arms flailing, tears streaming, and informed Arthur that Guinevere was missing. She'd been taken by a large black man.

Arthur knew he and Elyan couldn't find her alone and time was of the essence. Even if Arthur wasn't on the wrong side of the law most officers wouldn't bother solving the kidnapping of a slave girl. They would consider such an offense property loss, not a crime against a human being. Arthur would have to beg the help of a man who loathed aristocrats, especially the Pendragons; an avid abolitionist Arthur had several run-ins with in the past. _If I'll stand a chance in hell of getting my wife back I must find U.S. Marshal Gwaine..._

**Thank you for reading chapter 8 :^)**

**-Embrasia-**


	9. House of the Rising Sun

House of the Rising Sun

Not knowing who'd taken Guinevere or where to start looking, Arthur sought out one of the greatest detective minds in these United States of America. The field hands informed Arthur that Elyan had already taken off on his own to find Gwen; so Arthur needed all the help he could get. But it had been so long since Arthur had seen the famous U.S. marshal, Gwaine, he wasn't sure he'd even recognize him.

It was just after midnight and Arthur was still walking the busy streets of New Orleans with Merlin to his right and Morgana to his left. Any other city would be a ghost town at such an hour but Arthur wasn't surprised to see _The Big Easy_ more alive than ever. It was Mardi Gras after all. Pretend royalty on parade floats lit by torches were tossing fake jewelry to ecstatic admirers. Everywhere Arthur, Morgana, and Merlin turned were bright lights and music. Costumed men and women were drinking wine and dancing in the streets. The scent of exotic spices consumed the air almost thick enough to taste. It was as if the city never slept.

Morgana looked around with glee because Uther had never allowed her to attend the Mardi Gras parade. She only wished it wasn't under such grim circumstances and Gwen could be there to enjoy the festivities with her. Morgana smiled hopefully. _We're going to find Gwen and we're coming back here to celebrate after we do. This is truly a sight to behold._

"I want a necklace too," Morgana chimed.

"Do you not see how they're earning them," Arthur said sternly, his voice a little muffled by the helmet of his costume.

At that moment Morgana looked over to find a pair of naked breasts attached to a drunken party girl. Morgana gasped as the girl tucked her tits back in her bodice and happily donned her prize: a worthless string of wooden beads. Merlin and Arthur laughed hysterically at the shocked and appalled Morgana; who soon had a chuckle at herself.

With all the dressed up partiers running amuck Arthur fit right in disguised as a knight, in shining armor with a helmet to match. Morgana donned a simple maids' gown that bore all the meaning in the world to her. Merlin drank a potion that wrinkled his skin and made his hair grow long and white; he looked like a wizard of old. The festival created the perfect diversion and both men went undetected by those who sought their capture and execution.

"I believe this is it, Gwaine's hangout," Arthur stated as they approached the white two-story building.

He read the sign above the entrance: _House of the Rising Sun_: an infamous brothel and casino.

Arthur informed Morgana, "Women aren't allowed in but Merlin and I will only be a short while. Try to keep yourself out of trouble."

"Trouble? Me?" Morgana said innocently.

"I'm serious," Arthur warned.

Ever since Gwen went missing he didn't want Morgana out of his site. He was a wanted man and he didn't put it past the Confederacy to snatch his cousin to get to him.

Arthur rapped on the door with the heavy iron knocker. A bouncer dressed in a vest, button down shirt, black pants, and bow tie opened the door for them. Arthur removed his helmet and looked around the noisy packed casino. The entire first floor was consumed with blackjack, poker, and roulette tables along with darts, craps, and many other games used for the purpose of gambling. There was a bar at the far west wall, and a stage and piano at the far east. The House of the Rising Sun smelled like an agreeable mixture of multiple perfumes, colognes, fine cigars, and pipe tobacco. As Arthur predicted all the customers were male.

Half naked stage performers festooned in dazzling sequence and peacock feathers, wound their bodies proactively while those of similar dress swept the air like pendulums as they sat upon swings high in the rafters. It wasn't long before Arthur and Merlin were bombarded by a stampede of attractive, scantily clad waitresses. The women were clothed in lacy satin and ruffled dresses that came just above mid thigh. The tops were very low cut and in an assortment of colors.

"How may we be of service to you Monsieur?" The ladies asked flirtatiously.

Arthur looked over to find Merlin's potion had worn off but he was still dressed in magician robes. Merlin nervously ruffled his short black hair while grinning from ear to ear. Arthur laughed on the inside. _Merlin has absolutely no charm. That's why he only looks but never touches._

Arthur told the women with a smile, "As lovely as you all are, I've merely come to show my friend here a good time. It's his birthday."

Merlin gasped as the women giggled and led him away. He gave Arthur a please help me look but was ignored.

Arthur grimaced with concern as he ordered a drink at the bar. He forced down the lump in his throat with a swig of strong whiskey. _I dread, fear, she may already be dead if Helios took her._ _I must find U.S. Marshall Gwaine?_

Arthur nursed a Scotch while glancing around the bustling casino, chuck full of gamblers and drinkers. Patrons were enjoying the pleasurable company of barmaids on the second floor. Arthur ran a hand through his messy blond hair and tuned out the lustful moans and groans coming from the brothel upstairs, the squeak of worn mattresses, the knocking of headboards against thin walls. Arthur searched the tavern with his eyes; studied each of the faces, shaded by the brims of their cowboy hats. A young man with a thin black beard and mustache dealt another hand of poker, he was shorter than Arthur, muscular with long dark hair. His tobacco laden spit shot into a tin with a metallic ping.

A weather beaten waitress slid up behind Arthur at the bar. She bore a black eye that was starting to heal and fresh bruises around her neck: the marks of a woman who lived a hard life.

She pressed her breasts into his back and whispered in Arthur's ear with a ginger caress of his big broad shoulders, "You in need of company stranger? For a handsome man like you I'd offer a decent price."

Arthur turned and gave her an appreciative but apologetic smile.

He replied with the distinguished charm of a southern gentleman, "Thank you kindly Ma'am, but I'm a faithful man, just got married."

"Pity," The waitress sighed. "You would've been a mighty smooth ride."

Arthur grabbed her hand as she turned to leave.

He said, "You can earn a fine tip if you tell me everything you know about U.S. Marshal Gwaine. He's an American Englishman from the Southwest."

The waitress informed Arthur with a roll of her eyes, "Ah Gwaine the ever determined crusader for good. He never wants the pleasure of us barmaids either, though the pleasure would be all ours." She smiled, "He rarely visits this place, don't like the fact that its whites only. He thinks everyone should be treated equally. He stops in from time to time just to win money off our patrons when he's short on cash. And he's right… over… there." She said pointing to a poker table.

"Thank you Miss," Arthur said passing her a hefty sum of cash. _Hopefully this will keep her off her back, if only for a few weeks. I'd never admit this to any other man but I honestly feel bad for these women. That hapless girl might be fifteen summers if she's a day._

The girl's eyes welled up with tears in response to his generosity. Before he could stop her she planted an appreciative kiss on him. She bolted out, ignoring the boss/bartender yelling after her.

The owner of the tavern slapped down a filthy wash rag on his bar. "Damn you! I lost a good whore because of you! She's not addicted to opium like the others. Now that she has enough money to sew her fields and feed her bastard I may never get her back."

"Then pay your girls better and stop slapping them around," Arthur declared as he rose from his barstool and headed for the poker table.

Arthur called back over his shoulder, "Just because they sell themselves doesn't mean you have to treat them like animals."

"They are filthy animals," The bartender grumbled and returned to his work.

Arthur approached the gentleman who'd been pointed out by the girl. He looked young for a U.S. Marshall, early twenties maybe. Arthur listened in on a conversation between Gwaine and a short stout patron.

The stout man called out angrily, "I thought you said you weren't Gwaine."

"And I thought you said you weren't a slave owner," Gwaine shot back in a voice quieter than expected. He shuffled the deck of cards and began to deal another hand.

Desperate for the U.S. Marshall's assistance the man humbly said, "It's a matter of life and death."

Gwaine gritted his teeth at the sign posted by the door: **No Dogs or Gypsies Allowed**."That bartender has some nerve."

"It's a pity I like dogs," A thin balding fellow joked as he dealt another hand.

The U.S. Marshal brushed off the ignorant bigot. _Has the whole world lost its decency?_Gwaine discarded the tobacco in his jaw and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. There were a few downtrodden white women working at the House of the Rising Sun: disgraced young girls who were estranged from their families for being unwed mothers or just plain unruly; but the majority of the employees were slaves. Gwaine gazed with pity at the many slave women forced by their master to work in the brothel. _Of all the horrible reasons people own slaves this is by far the most despicable. The only reason I come to this place at all is to help the willing ones escape to freedom._

Gwaine told the fellow standing before him, "When we corresponded through the U.S. mail I informed you that I do not assist slave owners with tracking down runaways. That's not why I took my oath as a U.S. Marshal. Offer your bounty to a slave tracker and take no more of my time."

"Am I to understand that because I'm a plantation master you're not going to help this girl," The man snapped.

Gwaine removed his black cowboy hat and rustled the thick dark locks that fell at his shoulders. Then he replaced the hat and said, "Because you're a plantation master I'm not going to help you. How am I to know this girl didn't leave on her own? Slaves run away all the time, and for good reason."

"Please, she could be in danger. Her name is Autumn," The man pleaded.

"Fine," Gwaine said. "What does this Autumn look like?"

The man informed him, "Autumn is a thin girl in her late twenties with large cat-like eyes and milk chocolate skin. She has long black hair perpetually covered by a scarf. She's quite beautiful, just not in the typical European way."

Gwaine shot an accusing look at the man and asked, "If her hair is always covered how is it that you came to know the length of it? I find it interesting that a modest woman who makes it a point to hide her hair from the world would brandish her locks before her master of all people."

Arthur grinned as he watched; a bit impressed by the marshal's intuitiveness. _Gwaine is definitely the right man for the job. He'll leave no stone unturned._

The stout man said, "Why don't you just come right out and ask me if I'm forcing myself on her."

"Well are you," Gwaine questioned. "That would be a major incentive for her to run off."

"Well… well… What I do with my slave is none of your business! She's my property!" The man growled and was soon thrown out in the dirt by a bouncer.

Gwaine sighed. _The only one posing a danger to that poor girl was him. Thank heavens she got away._

"Much obliged Tristan," Gwaine called to the stern faced bouncer.

"Don't even think about it Pendragon. I know exactly who you are," Gwaine called as Arthur approached next.

Arthur whispered in his ear. "You don't know who I am. You knew who I was, before I helped a wizard escape execution, betrayed the confederate army, and married a black woman."

Gwaine's brows furrowed. Confusion covered his ruggedly handsome face. He settled up with the players and pulled Arthur to a remote corner of the room.

Arthur pointed out the window, "If you don't believe me look at the wanted poster nailed to that maple tree. Now my wife is missing and I'm not leaving here without your help!"

Gwaine grinned at his former rival, "So that's why you're calling on me. You know I'll treat any missing person like a missing person, and not just a lost piece of property."

Arthur nodded, "I'm also seeking your assistance because it takes the best to outwit the best. Gwen vanished without a trace. Whoever took her is no simpleton."

Gwaine said, "You helped that young prostitute."

"I know you find it weak of me right, but I have a sister of my own," Arthur explained.

Gwaine nodded, "On the contraire, I would've done the same if I had the money. I thought what you did was decent and I think you are decent, which is why I'm not going to rest until I solve the case of the missing slave girl."

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief, "Much obliged. The only one I can think of with motive to take her is an African warlord with a vendetta named Helios."

"Does Gwen have any family here," Gwaine asked. "I find it strange that you're the only one looking for her."

"Her brother Elyan went on his own to search for her," Arthur explained.

"Why didn't he team up with you," Gwaine asked.

Arthur snickered, "To be honest I don't think the fellow trusts or even likes me very much."

"Well you are the white devil to him," Gwaine laughed. "Tell me more about this Helios. As well as any other enemies you may have. We'll go after the person I believe has the most motive to kidnap your wife."

Arthur confessed, "I have no shortage of enemies right now, but only two know I care for Gwen: just Helios and my bottom feeding uncle, Agravaine."

A few minutes later Arthur walked outside with Gwaine. Merlin trailed them with a silly grin and lipstick all over his face. He didn't bed any of the women, just enjoyed their company: their beautiful bell-like laughs and pleasant conversations.

Arthur told Morgana, "We're heading to the docks. Gwaine figured out who took her."

"Shouldn't we be searching the Louisiana Bayous for Gwen," Morgana protested. "That's the easiest place for villains to hide."

Gwaine assured her, "Trust me milady. She's at the docks."

Morgana nodded, still a bit unsure of the handsome stranger.

Arthur gasped, "Morgana where did you get those beads?"

Morgana gave an awkward grin and bit the corner of her lip.

_Unmasked_

Gwen sat in seclusion, arms tied behind her back, a gag over her mouth, a bag over her head. _Why would anyone want to hurt me?_She hadn't a clue where she was. All she could tell was that she was on a ship. She could smell the salty sea, hear water smacking against the hull, feel the subtle rocking and swaying. Her skin crawled at the sound of footsteps, which ceased abruptly before her. She trembled, scooted away, and released a bunch of muffled squeals. The man snatched the bag from her head and pulled down her gag.

"Elyan," Gwen called with utter confusion and fiery anger.


	10. The Standoff

**Author's Note: Here's your update buzzy31bee :^)**

**-Embrasia-**

The Standoff

Dawn was breaking outside the ship Gwen was in the cargo hold of. For some reason Agravaine liked Elyan, which made it that much easier for Elyan to take money and a firearm from him while he slept. Elyan found a simple merchant ship that would grant him passage to the African mainland were the sailors traded goods for precious stones. From there he'd make the short trip to his island, to his father, to his betrothed accompanied by his poor sister who was so delusional that she believed she was in love with the enemy. All he had to do was shoot the rotten white scoundrel who'd brainwashed her.

Gwen trembled with fear and forced down a lump in her throat the size of her fist as Elyan and Arthur circled one another with aimed revolvers and determined glares. It was the standoff from hell that no one should ever have to witness. No matter the outcome she'd suffer the stabbing, excruciating, pain of losing two men she loved; one due to death and the other due to her resentment for killing the first in cold blood.

Elyan yelled, "My sister has been a captive so long she actually thinks she loves you! She's suffering from an affliction I've seen many times with prisoners of war. After a lot of space and time from their tormentors they realized their feelings were confused and they actually hate the monster! You're a rotten bastard for taking advantage of your authority Master Pendragon!"

Gwen pleaded between choked sobs, her face soaked with tears, "Elyan you're not making sense. There is no such affliction."

"Actually he's right. There is," Arthur admitted. "I saw it in the house slaves. They were absolutely infatuated with my father and he was a horrible tyrant. But that is not the case with Gwen."

"How so," Elyan demanded with a tight grip on his gun. "When I first arrived I saw Gwen's friendship bracelet and I asked her who possessed the other. That's when she confessed that she was in love with a slave named Mathew, but she lost him. She never once mentioned you."

"Because he's Mathew," Gwen called out.

A puzzled look swept over Elyan, "Now you're not making any sense."

With great fortitude Arthur surrendered his gun to Gwen. Elyan watched in silence and confusion as Arthur turned his back to him and unbuttoned his shirt. Elyan gasped in horror as his eyes fell upon the most lash marks he'd ever seen on a human being.

"But… But you're not a slave," Elyan muttered.

"Yes I was, just in a different sense," Arthur explained. "Gwen and I fell in love before she knew my true name which is how I know she doesn't suffer from that affliction. I got these scars because I love her and she took a few for me as well."

Arthur passed Elyan the matching leather bracelet, and Elyan allowed Gwen to take his firearm.

Elyan turned to Gwen and asked, "Why didn't you tell me you were lashed?"

"Because of the reason why," Gwen confessed. "I was caught in a compromising position with a man not my husband. I was embarrassed Elyan."

"I promised Mother I'd always look after you," Elyan said. "I promised Father I'd bring you home safe."

Gwen replied, "And I promised Mother and Father I'd always follow my heart and Arthur is one half of it. But you are the other half. If you truly love me brother you would not make me choose. I cannot live with half my heart."

"I'm sorry Gwen," Elyan said. "I thought you weren't yourself."

"I know," Gwen assured him with a hand upon his cheek.

Arthur gave his wife a long awaited kiss and embraced her.

"There's something I wish to show both of you," Arthur said, "Elyan we started off on the wrong foot and I intend to change that. Guinevere told me you proposed marriage to a princess from a rival tribe in order to gain peace but her father and brothers of course didn't like you. So you released all their prisoners of war as an act of good faith. And you were amazed at how much changed with just one act of good will."

They stepped down upon the dock on a bright sunny morning. Sporadic puffy clouds broke up a cerulean sky. The port was bustling with men women and children. Most of which were slaves from the Pendragon estate. They were boarding ships, their destinations all over the globe.

Arthur passed Elyan and Gwen two folded up documents stamped closed with big red seals, "You're free to go and so are all of them."

Gwen sprung into Arthur's arms and covered his face with kisses.

Elyan smiled, "As prince back home I was lobbied, petitioned, and lied to all day long. I learned to sum people up quickly and accurately, but I must admit. I was wrong about you Arthur Pendragon. You and Gwen together, I just didn't understand."

Arthur said to Gwen, "Can you grant us a moment to talk man to man. I swear we won't kill each other."

Gwen cut them a glare that said _you both better behave_ and then she went to share loving hugs, cheerful goodbyes, and tears of joy with her friends from the field.

Arthur told Elyan, "I have a cousin who's like a sister to me and I would've likely done the same. Over the years my father and I have graced Morgana with countless pieces of extravagant jewelry. And then I take her to Mardi Gras and she shows her breasts to strangers for a phony wooden necklace!"

Elyan gasped, "I would've killed her."

"I wanted to," Arthur admitted. "Once I'd proceed to berate her for her inappropriate behavior guess what she does."

"What," an intrigued Elyan insists.

"She yells at me," Arthur says and goes on to mock Morgana in a girly voice. "Oh it was just a peek Arthur! You're not the boss of me!"

Both Arthur and Elyan had a good laugh and Arthur went on to say, "We live to protect our sisters and they don't always appreciate it. They marry men we don't like and show their breasts to strangers. They do things we don't understand; but that doesn't mean they don't have every right to do them. Now Guinevere is a free woman. If she wants to be with me it's her choice, but it would mean the world to both of us if we had your blessing."

Gwen joined Arthur and Elyan happy they were seeing eye to eye.

Elyan asked, "Why are only the women and children boarding ships?"

"Because the men are going to the same place I am, north to fight for the union," Arthur explained. "The women and children will return once we've won the war."

Gwen choked at the thought of him in danger, "Arthur no! You will not make me a bride and a widow in the same breath."

"I'm coming with him," Elyan decided.

"What," Guinevere gasped. "You're supposed to be getting married Elyan."

"And do you think Eurydice would have me if she knew I fled and did nothing to stop the mass oppression of our people," Elyan declared. "I'm going with Arthur."

Guinevere stormed away, ran down to the beach. Morgana, who was standing there with Merlin and two men Gwen didn't recognize, ran over and embraced Gwen.

"Thank god you're alright," Morgana said.

"Do you know what Arthur is considering, and he's taking my brother," Gwen stated still in shock.

Morgana nodded and squeezed Gwen's hand, "Brothers often do things we do not understand but they have every right to do them."

_The Moonlight Ride_

"Is this a bribe," asked Guinevere as she and Arthur took a slow, romantic, horseback ride about the deserted plantation; the very plantation they were soon to bid farewell.

"I don't know. Is it working," Arthur replied with the undeniable grin that melted away her anger every time.

Gwen swayed back and forth with each graceful step of her horse gazing dreamily up at the heavens. Her heart smiled knowing this time Arthur truly was watching those very stars with her. Now that she wasn't being work to death she actually noticed how beautiful the vast property was: its sparkling lake and expansive weeping willow trees, the lush emerald lawn that seemed to go on forever.

"It isn't fair that I can't stay mad at you," She grumbled.

"I'm doing this for us Guinevere. As long as there is a confederacy I will be a wanted traitor, and a very wise man told me that I was destined to free the people," Arthur confessed. "This is who I am Gwen."

"My knight in arms," She whispered, a smiled bracing her lips for the first time since receiving the news.

Arthur pulled back the reigns of his horse and came to a stop. He climbed off his horse and then walked over to Gwen. He took her by the waist and helped her down. Arthur led Gwen by the hand beneath one of the large willow trees. Its hair-like Branches hung clear to the ground hiding them from the world, and spaces at the top of the willow allowed star-like spots of moonlight to filter in. Arthur pulled Gwen against the tree, lifting her arms above her head and taking her neck with his mouth. Soon her mouth was his possession and her arms fell about his neck and shoulders, holding on tightly as their tongues danced together. Gwen pushed off the tree and pushed Arthur into it, her hands undoing his belt then his pants and soon she'd found him.

"Gwen," Arthur called as she knelt before his erection, intent upon committing an act a very brash girl she'd worked the fields with had told her about.

It was a naughty act the girl swore drove men mad with desire. Gwen opened her mouth just so and placed her soft wet tongue on the tip of him while she stoked the base with her hand. She sucked and licked the smooth skin of his desire taking him into her mouth inch by inch, making him disappeared and reappear before vanishing once again. As this was a maiden voyage she could only hope she was doing it right and soon she was laid at ease as his jaw clenched between manly groans and he gently held the back of her head in a silent plea for her not to stop. She stroked him, suckled him, drove him mad with desire, his hand still gently brushing over her hair as she bobbed up and down on him.

He withdrew his hard wet manhood from her mouth, knowing full well it would be over soon if he allowed her to keep going. Unsure if his wife's mouth was an appropriate place to spill his nectar Arthur took Gwen by the shoulders and pulled her off the hard ground. He eagerly pushed her back against a tree and she smiled as he kneeled, reached under her dress, and slid down her panties. He grinned and placed sweet kisses on her thighs as he did this. Then he rose once more as she stepped out of her under garments. She opened her legs just a little allowing him entry, poised to take him in. He pulled up her skirts, hoisted her up on his hips, and she moaned loudly as he thrust himself inside of her. She fit him live a glove, a hot wet glove and Arthur paused to breath and distract himself so it wouldn't soon end. His hands gripping her soft round ass, her legs intertwined with his, Arthur proceeded to pound Gwen hungrily against the tree. He took her roughly, lustfully with a need she'd never seen before, grunting and grinding his pelvis into hers she gasped in shock and wanton pleasure. He wasn't taking it easy like the first night. He was giving her every long hard inch of him to the point she felt a subtle ache in her belly as he groaned, gripped her cheeks, fucked with utter wanton desire.

"Am I being too rough," he asked in a lusty breathless tone noticing the shock on her face.

"No be rougher," She ordered and he obliged her.

Hammered her until she was sore until she gripped his back for dear life and cried out with desire and he knew that she was pleased; and with a few gasping trusts he'd joined her. She gasped as he withdrew from her and set her back on her feet which were unsteady after the manner he'd taken her in. He steadied her and once she regained her balance he proceeded to set out their picnic.

Gwen enjoyed a glass of wine, her belly still aching from their passionate coupling. Arthur drank a glass of smooth red wine and then rested his head upon Gwen's lap, closed his eyes while she gingerly ran her fingers through his tresses.

"I love you Guinevere," He vowed without opening his eyes.

"And I love you Arthur," She said in a shaky voice remembering what he was soon to do. "Bring yourself and my brother back in one piece. As I have previously said, I cannot live without my heart."


	11. The Nurses of Fort Camelot

The Nurses of Fort Camelot

Arthur sat across a small desk from Captain Leon of the Union Army. The large Captain's tent did little to muffle the gunshots and cannons firing in the distance. There were times when the ground quaked beneath their feet.

Captain Leon made a messy pile of papers into a neat square and spoke amidst the turmoil, "Arthur Pendragon: son of General Pendragon himself. You graduated head of your class at WestPoint and a decorated lieutenant of the Confederate army. How do I know you're not some Trojan horse sent to gain intelligence?"

"Do you honestly believe I'd side with the men who spilled my father's blood on my own front lawn," Arthur replied.

"General Pendragon's dead," Leon asked in shock.

"Yes," Arthur admitted. "And General Lee has taken his place. I haven't come to receive intelligence, but to offer it."

"I'll put you with an appropriate troop right away," Leon offered. "This is a Negro regiment, you know buffalo soldiers."

"Actually this is right where I need to be," Arthur informed him. "I have a kept woman and I promised her I'd fight alongside her brother."

"I'll see what I can do," Leon smirked. "You know I had at least one other white man sign up for my negro regiment."

"Truly," An intrigued Arthur questioned.

"I swear," Leon told him, "Said he wanted to stay with his octoroon brother. I believe his name was Lancelot."

"Are both brother's alive!" Arthur demanded.

Arthur's heart stopped. He drew no breath as Leon grazed the long list of deceased with his eyes, gingerly strumming his index finger down the scroll.

Leon looked up, his face showing no emotion, after the longest pause of Arthur's life he said. "Yes they're both alive."

It took all the strength in Arthur to refrain from jumping ten feet high and pumping his fists in the air. He barely heard Captain Leon's instructions after that.

"Pendragon," Leon said. "You'll need to go to Nurse Tubman for a new recruit examination."

_Battlefront Nurses_

Nurse Tubman's wrists ached from trying to wrestle the nasty old handkerchief from her patient. Her dark brown face grew weary from the mental exhaustion of dealing with hard-headed troops sun up to sun down. This young man was her most stubborn patient yet. He simply would not let go of this cloth. The once sparkling white accessory was now dingy brown with a large red stain. Not a sanitary cloth for a wounded man to hold fast to.

She yelled, "Soldier I am trying to prepare you for surgery! My boss, Dr. Joseph Lister, is a stickler for aseptic technique! This nasty old handkerchief is not sanitary! This has to be a sterile field!"

The young man lying on the bunk with a bullet in his shoulder yanked back on the cloth hard, finally freeing it of the nurse's iron grip.

"I don't care if you work for Lister, King Tut, or Jesus!" The soldier bellowed. "You're not taking my handkerchief. It means too much to me."

Even with the injury she couldn't overpower him so she sought to reason with him, "I'm sorry we got off on the wrong foot. My name is Harriet, Harriet Tubman. Why are you so attached to a damn handkerchief?"

"The only woman who ever loved me wiped her lipstick on this hanky the night she snuck off to a fish fry with me," The soldier replied. "Please don't take it. It's all I have of her. It's all I'll ever have of her."

The nurse nodded sympathetically, "I'll ask Dr. Lister if I can hit your handkerchief with a little carbonic acid to clean it, but be prepared to hear the word no. As I've already said, he is a stickler."

Percival nodded respectfully and smiled, slightly relieved, "Thank you ma'am."

Nurse Tubman pulled the curtain around his bed and went to scrub her hands before examining the next pain-in-the-ass patient. _Lister is very picky about hand washing even though most other scientists and doctors call him a lunatic for it. But Lister's patients don't end up dying from post operative infections like the others. There may be something to his sterile surgical techniques. Ah Asepsis, the wave of the future._

Nurse Tubman patted her hands dry on a sterile towel and then opened the next curtain, "Hello I'm Nurse Harriet Tubman."

She gasped as the young white man grabbed her hand and shook it vigorously. Most white men, north or south, loathed to see a black person let alone touch one. She was taken by surprise.

"You're a legend!" He said starry-eyed, nearly shaking her arm out of its socket, "A notorious Union nurse, spy, and abolitionist! Freed so many slaves people call you Moses." With a kiss of her hand he said, "I'm Gwaine."

"I'm flattered dear but I'm a married woman and if you're going to kiss on me you'll have to spoon me afterwards," She replied in her usual smartass manner.

"Hell I'm your biggest admirer. Pull up your dress and climb on the table," Gwaine jested with the old nurse who stood mouth ajar, in shock that she'd met her match.

As a former slave Nurse Tubman's strong will and sarcastic nature use to get her into trouble, but Gwaine was not a man she could easily embarrass or make uncomfortable. He turned the tables on her. Outside of the bleak surroundings of the brothel Gwaine was actually a fun-loving bloke.

She looked down at her clipboard, "It says you're here for a new recruit exam."

"Yes, I did the whole abolitionist thing. Now I figure I can help on a greater scale if I assist in winning the war," He explained.

Nurse Tubman called to her beautiful young apprentice. The girl tied a large white apron over a long gray dress. Then she adjusted her stark white cap atop her head.

As she walked over Nurse Tubman told her, "I have a new recruit to examine, but there's a young man at the end of the hall who refuses to give up his disgusting handkerchief. I'll ask Dr. Lister if I can just clean it for the boy. In the very likely outcome of the doc saying hell no I'll need you to reason with the patient. A younger, prettier, face often receives a better response."

The young nurse nodded, her long dress gracefully sweeping over the ground as she walked. She ventured through the bustling infirmary; chuck full of injured soldiers hobbling around: amputees and bullet wounds. The smell of fresh blood and old vomit assaulted her nostrils. _I can't believe I volunteered for this. I'd never done a hard day's work in my life, but they need us._She pulled her patient's curtain back.

"Morgana!" He called, finally releasing the handkerchief.

She froze, gasped, dropped her clipboard, "Percival…"


	12. The Ruins

The Ruins

"Well I suppose that's one way to get the patient to cooperate," Nurse Tubman announced as she discovered her apprentice Morgana straddling the lap of a big strapping soldier, her skirt hiked high on her hips her hands wrapped around his neck.

Percival's hands moved gingerly up and down Morgana's back as they ravenously took each others mouths and tongues. Morgana sprung from his lap. She snatched down her skirt as she saw the old Nurse standing there. A dark red blush spread over both Morgana and Percival's cheeks.

"Did you at least get the handkerchief," Nurse Tubman questioned with a chuckle.

Percival picked it up and handed it over at once, "I'm sorry for being so ornery ma'am. I know you were just trying to help me."

Nurse Tubman accepted the cloth and walked away with a knowing smirk. Percival held both Morgana's dainty hands in his massive mitts as she sat next to him on the bed.

She smiled excitedly, "The Union is offering an incentive for light-skinned slaves. Since the north has nothing to profit from black people. They have no reason to consider those with only a modicum of African blood, black. They've agreed to change the laws to make those an eighth black or less white citizens. That means we can legally marry after the war is over."

"I couldn't be a good husband. That's why I won't ask you to have me," Percival admitted in defeat.

"That's nonsense," She swore. "I'd have you right here on this gurney if it were proper. And I hope you don't think I'm going to wait until the war is over. I'm calling on the Chaplin."

"Alright, you talk to the Chaplin and I'll talk to Arthur," Percival agreed and kissed her once more.

Gwen adjusted the collar of Arthur's uniform unable to hide the pride on her face.

"Have I ever told you how sexy you look in blue," She flirted.

He grinned, "Yes but frequent reminders are always appreciated."

Percival approached barely able to contain himself. He couldn't believe his friends were here.

Percival called out formally, "May I have a word Lieutenant Pendragon Sir."

Gwen grinned with glee and hugged Percival tight. Then she kissed Arthur's cheek and returned to the infirmary.

"At ease soldier," Arthur replied giving him a gigantic man hug, "I just saw Lancelot. I can't believe we're all here."

"Me neither," Percival admitted. "And there's something I have to ask you."

Arthur waited in awkward silence for a few minutes before saying, "Let me guess, you're in love with my cousin." As Percival stood dumbfounded Arthur laughed, "Oh please Percival, it was blatantly obvious to everyone but you."

"But… but," Percival stammered.

His nervousness was beginning to make Arthur nervous and then angry.

"Unless you're here to confess that you've uncrossed her legs and soiled her without first asking me for her hand," Arthur snarled with an aimed pistol. "In which case I will shoot you in the face and not think of you a moment after."

"I haven't touched her. I swear," Percival promised staring down the barrel of Arthur's gun.

"In that case welcome to the family," Arthur chimed with a grin and a slap on Percival's shoulder.

"Actually I was here to ask you to tell Morgana we can't marry," Percival explained. "There's still a lot she doesn't know about me. I would not make a suitable husband and I don't want to break her heart."

"I'm not going to hurt my cousin because you don't think you're good enough for her," Arthur snapped. "I'd suggest you grow a pair and get over yourself. I refuse to give you an easy out when I know how much you two love each other."

Percival smiled and nodded. Arthur assured him, "Whatever issue you are struggling with can be overcome if you're honest with her."

_Two Weeks Later_

With the battle won the troops would have just a few days to rest and celebrate their victory. Merlin made much of this victory possible by blasting enemy troops with magic. Arthur, Gwaine, Elyan, and Tristan had been a marvelous addition to Union forces and with Percival, Lancelot, and Leon bracing the field as well the_54th Massachusetts_ was a nearly impenetrable force. Lieutenant Arthur Pendragon and Captain Leon plotted points on a large map while discussing war strategy. They ran string between each pin, connecting the dots of their next attack.

"Do you truly believe one weapon is worth the trouble," Leon said with a rustle of his light brown curls.

"At the last battle I saw a familiar face with a very familiar sword," Arthur explained. "That man was my uncle and that sword is enchanted. This is how he managed to take so many of our men. Now we only have a matter of time to retrieve that weapon before he realizes its true capability. We may not be so lucky next battle."

Leon wouldn't have believed Arthur if not for two union scouts raving about a man who stopped a cannon ball mid flight and another who took to the battlefield with an enchanted sword.

Leon informed Arthur, "A covert mission might be best for the recovery of this weapon. Choose a team of the best and bravest Lieutenant Pendragon and we'll convene at sunset at the round table."

_The Ruins_

They were stationed at an ancient indigenous civilization and the ruins were an astonishing vision to behold. Numerous stone living structures surrounded a central courtyard where an enormous round table stood, made of polished marble. Toppled stone pillars festooned with lime green moss, pink flowers, and winding vines lay elegantly upon the expansive lawn. Its lake sparkled majestically in the setting sun, which was quickly being overcome by clouds threatening heavy showers.

As of present Arthur and his crew were sitting around the ancient table plotting their strategy to take on Agravaine and the Confederacy. The buffalo soldiers had set up camp just outside the ruins and the place was crawling with cheerful troops still high off their last victory, splashing like children in the clear blue waters.

"You should really take it easy in your condition Gwen," Gwaine chastised her as she and the other nurses ran about readying supplies for Arthur's mission.

Though Guinevere hadn't told Gwaine about her predicament, he had a way of getting in people's heads, a gift for reading others like a book. Gwaine was a natural-born profiler if ever she met one. This made him a great U.S. Marshall and an even better military operative.

"Shhh," Gwen said while dragging a heavy case. "If you keep treating me like a porcelain doll. Arthur will figure out."

"You should just tell him Gwen," Gwaine replied taking the case off her hands. "He'll be ecstatic. You have nothing to worry about."

"Tell Arthur what," Morgana said as she approached in a beautiful green gown; one of the few she was able to bring on the trip.

"Oh nothing," Gwaine insisted.

"You make a lovely couple milady," A busy Gwen said with a smile as Morgana grinned and winked in the direction of the round table.

Percival, standing stately in his crisp blue uniform his arm still in a sling from his surgery, motioned for Morgana to turn around with his finger. She obliged him with a graceful whirl and he grinned, puckered his beautiful lips, and whistled loudly.

He gave a subtle wave her way before being yelled at by Leon, "Head in the game boy, and off the nurse! You'll have her the rest of the night after we're done here."

Leon shook his head wistfully. _Young love… Makes me miss my wife Mithian and our children._

Morgana snickered feeling slightly guilty for getting her beau in trouble.

Gwen asked, "So how's the married life milady?"

"It's great really," Morgana lied. _Percival still hasn't taken me to bed and we've been married for weeks now. What did I do wrong?_She pondered unaware of the pain and shame that was keeping him from having her; the thing that was stopping him from taking her with all the love, passion, and lust he felt inside of him.

A terrified look fell over Morgana's face and she reached out her arms. Before Gwaine could ask what was going on Guinevere fell limply into them.

Morgana eased down to the ground with her overcome by revelations. _Gwen's been distracted, nauseous, and exhausted since we arrived… Oh my goodness! I'm so telling Arthur!_

"What happened," Gwen groggily murmured as she came to.

"You fainted," Morgana chastised her with concern. "You've got to stop working so hard, and I'm telling Arthur your little secret."

"Please don't," Gwen pleaded as Morgana turned to leave. "I need Arthur's mind on the fight and off my belly. A distraction like this could get him killed."

"You can't hide it forever," Gwaine said. "You'll start to show at some point."

"I know and I intend to tell him when the time is right," Gwen promised.

Arthur came running over as they helped her to her feet.

"Is she alright," Arthur asked frantically.

"I'm fine, just tired, so very tired," Gwen replied silently begging Gwaine and Morgana for their silence.

"I promise to turn in early tonight," Gwen vowed and the worry melted from Arthur's face.

"I'll take more time for us as soon as I finish this meeting," He gave her a peck on the lips and turned to leave. "Gwaine, you're needed at the round table."

"Arthur," Gwen took a deep breath and he stopped and made an about-face.

Morgana looked at Gwen silently urging her to tell Arthur he was soon to be a daddy but she lost her nerve as quickly as she'd found it.

Gwen smiled, "I just love you so much. That's all."

"I love you too," Arthur replied with an oblivious grin.

Gwen laughed as she heard Arthur yelling in the distance, "Has anyone seen Merlin! Round table now Merlin! Merlin!"

Gwen left the field and lied down on her bunk. She closed her weary eyes for only a moment. The baby was already taking its toll on her; demanding more from mommy everyday. Gwen sighed and gave her belly a gentle rub. _Sweet precious one, how on earth are we going to tell Arthur about you?_


	13. Eight Confessions

Eight Confessions

Late in the evening flickering orange flames burned in the night while soldiers played lively music and feasted on delicious game birds. Morgana sat next to Percival at the round table in the company of Arthur, Gwen, Merlin, Lancelot, Gwaine, Elyan, Tristan, and Leon.

Guinevere made certain to pack down a few extra bites for baby. She didn't feel quite so tired when she ate properly. _Arthur is preparing for his greatest adventure yet. It's time I did the same._

Gwen sat the fork aside as she noticed Leon looking at her with a knowing smirk. He had five children of his own and Gwen's increase in appetite was all too familiar.

Morgana smiled amidst the partying soldiers and placed a fork full of potatoes in her husband's waiting mouth. She sucked off the remaining bit of salty creamy potatoes that had fallen on his lip; which turned into a full-blown kiss that had Percival ready to mount her there on the round table. But he could never violate Morgana the way he'd been forced to soil those other women. She was his princess. They broke the lip lock as Arthur made gagging noises.

"Arthur," Gwen gave him an inconspicuous elbow and Morgana laughed at her cousin's childishness.

"Looks like the party is over," Morgana said as she felt cool rain drops on her wrist.

She whispered in her husband's ear, "We need to talk."

"I'll meet you shortly," He said with an affectionate kiss of her hand

Rain poured as Arthur stood poised at the round table looking at each of his men, their hair darkened and matted by the rain. Thunder rolled with the force of the Gods. Lightening split the sky above the trees.

A soaked Merlin grinned as Arthur announced amidst the chaos, "A wise man once told me that I was destined to free the people. I laughed and told him I was a confederate soldier. That's when he informed me that I was a knight! We are all knights in that we defend those who cannot defend themselves, with honor and chivalry!"

The menacing storm made his speech all the more dramatic, all the more powerful.

Arthur sat down and ordered, "Sir Tristan, who I have chosen for your courage and skill in combat, rise and tell us why you fight!"

Tristan rose and confessed, "The headliner at a brothel back home is called the Madam LeSoleil Levant; which is French for 'the rising sun'. I'm one of the few who know her by her birth name, Isolde. She is a quadroon slave forced to sell her body. So I Tristan! Fight for her and all other's imprisoned at the _House of the Rising Sun_!"

"And with you we fight!" his comrades vowed.

Arthur pointed to his brother in law, "Sir Elyan, who I have selected for your stealth and ability to track our enemies, rise and tell us why you fight!"

Elyan rose and vowed, "Most don't know that in order to get the slaves they feel they have a right to, villages are sacked! People are slaughtered! On the slave ship people rode knee-deep in piss shit and dead children! My beloved told me that if you're not part of the solution you're part of the problem. And I'm sick of being part of the problem. So I Elyan! Fight for all those who've perished because of slavery!"

"And with you we fight!"

Arthur pointed as the rain poured, "Sir Leon, who I have selected for your tactical strategies in battle, rise and tell us why you fight!"

Leon rose, amidst the storm, "This issue of states' rights has turned son against father, sister against brother. For sake of raising my children in a country united under god and one leader! I Leontes! Fight for freedom and the future of these United States!"

"And with you we fight!"

Arthur ordered while the lightening cracked, "Sir Percival, who I have chosen for your unmatched strength and will to defend others, rise and tell us why you fight!"

Percival rose and took a deep breath, "The Master couldn't resist breeding a big strapping lad like me. He started forcing me on slave girls the moment I turned thirteen. Every intimate act was a violation, and every child I conceived was taken and sold to the highest bidder." Morgana walked out of the shelter into the rain with an aghast expression as he spoke, "My first child hurt me the worst. I wasn't in love with the mother but we were best friends; a girl named Carol. I'd merely taken her body because I knew she'd be lashed if I didn't. My father warned me not to get attached but I was young and dumb. I spent every free moment rubbing Carol's belly as she grew big with my child. I massaged her feet, swollen from motherhood, while picking out names for our future bundle: the only blessing sure to come out of such a rotten predicament. And at last she bore me a beautiful little girl, looked just like me. I'd never been prouder than the day I held my daughter for the first time. My father sold her and Carol." Percival looked over at Morgana who was standing in the rain, crying her eyes out, as a witness to her husband's pain. He said, "The Reverend sold all nine of his grandchildren and I never yearned to touch another woman after escaping that horrible place. So I Percival! Fight for the love of Morgana, and I fight for the freedom of all those being bred like cattle!"

Morgana sobbingly quoted the words along with them, "And with you we fight!"

Gwen comforted Morgana as Arthur called out in the rain, "Sir Lancelot, who I have chosen for your compassion, fortitude, and loyalty, rise and tell us why you fight!"

Lancelot rose and confessed amidst the wind and the rain, "I take a stand with my brother in blood and all my brothers in arms. For the babies ripped from the arms of keening mothers on the auction block. For the nieces and nephews I'll never get to hold, never be able to know. I Lancelot! Fight for all the families torn apart by this wicked institution!"

"And with you we fight!"

Lancelot gave his brother a comforting hug as Arthur ordered, "Sir Gwaine, who I have selected for your cunning and ability to play your opponents like chess pieces, rise and tell us why you fight!"

Gwaine rose uncertain if he was ready to bare his soul, "I came here a poor Irish lad with my aunt, the only mother I've ever known, after the potato famine destroyed our crop. America promised liberty and justice for all. My aunt was raped and strangled to death by her wealthy aristocratic employer after cleaning his home one night. Law enforcement refused to investigate. My aunt was poor Irish trash; she barely counted as a person to them. So I Gwaine! Fight for the equality of all people!"

"And with you we fight!"

Arthur called, "Sir Merlin, who I have chosen for your wisdom and magic, rise and tell us why you fight!"

Merlin rose, unsure of how they'd react to his secret, "Arthur, I once had a rich powerful bastard for a father too. The masses called him Caesar, though it was several lifetimes ago. And I too fell in love with a slave girl only to find an arrow in her heart. So I Merlin Emrys! Fight for the rights of people to worship however they want and love whomever they choose!"

"And with you we fight!"

"Now I see the reason for your look but don't touch policy," Arthur whispered to Merlin. "Why didn't you tell me you were married to that goddess? You didn't even talk to Freya at the lake."

"I needed you focused on the fight and not on my personal life," Merlin spoke seriously. "And I thought you'd tease me horribly for remaining faithful and hopelessly devoted to a woman I can only have once a year."

Arthur's heart sank. He felt like an ass. _I would've never done that, but I suppose Merlin wouldn't know. I truly was a prat. My own friend couldn't tell me he was married for fear of my verbal abuse. _"Freya's a lovely woman. I'm sorry Merlin."

"It's alright Arthur," Merlin assured him.

Leon ordered, "And finally you Arthur Pendragon, who we have chosen for your combat skills, leadership, and bravery, rise and tell us why you fight!"

They cheered on the reluctant Arthur; who felt so heavy after hearing the earth shattering confessions of men he thought he knew; men he'd been too quick to judge. Rain streamed down Arthur's face as he rose.

Gwen watched from a distance as he said, "I fight for the mothers who've fallen dead in the fields mere days after giving birth. I fight for the women who live in constant peril of violent rapes by overseers. And I Arthur! Would fight and die for Guinevere, because without her I couldn't bear to live!"

Gwen smiled, a single tear rolling down her cheek; one warm drop intermingling with all the cool ones as she mouthed their words, "And with you we fight!"

Gwen ran up to Arthur as he and his knights dispersed from the round table; He swung her around; placed his lips upon hers in the pouring rain. Arthur put an arm around her shoulders and she wrapped her arms around his waist as they ventured to their shelter.

Gwen informed him, "I should talk to Morgana. Percival's confession really upset her. Where is Morgana anyway…"

_I Know a Few Tricks_

Naked underneath Percival was the answer to Gwen's question. Morgana and Percival bared their souls before one another and after a plethora of tears and even more embraces of love and understanding, they now bared their bodies. Their soggy fabrics lay in a forgotten pile on the floor as his strong, rippling, naked frame kneeled above her on all fours.

"Are you sure you want to be violated like this," He asked nervously.

She gazed up into his eyes sparkling in the candlelight, while a thunderstorm bellowed in the distance, "With you this could never be a violation. I love you."

He smiled awkwardly with concern, "I love you too."

Morgana's soft smooth thighs spread by her husband's knees as he placed his lips upon hers, her mouth opening just so allowing his tongue to caress, please, intertwine with hers as he claimed her mouth. Her legs bent at the knees, her feet planted firmly on the bunk at each side of him, she gripped his back and ran fingers through his short blonde hair eagerly matching his enamoring kiss. Percival's head dipped low to take a supple breast into his mouth.

"Tease," Morgana moaned biting her lip as he licked, suckled, caressed the rosebud colored nipples atop her magnificent white mounds.

Percival smiled remembering when he'd called her that very name and now it was time for sweet revenge. His mouth gently nipping and sucking at the bend of her neck and shoulder, he lowered himself upon her, running his hand up and down her thigh at his right hip. She felt him hard as steel against her womanhood, and realized this would hurt because all of him was huge.

"You're not afraid are you?" Percival whispered in her ear, running his finger through her lovely black locks.

"A little," Morgana admitted her breathing quickening from the fear of being painfully broken in.

She'd always been so bold and fearless. He found this show of innocence a bit endearing.

"It's going to hurt isn't it," she whispered.

He smiled and assured his nervous wife, "I know a few tricks."

She smiled and pulled him down into a sweltering kiss before traveling south to his throat; and he released a manly moan as she caressed his neck with her soft red lips, her tongue, her delicate fingertips. She gasped in shock as he bit her earlobe, the tiny bit of pain distracting her from the greater ache of losing her maiden head. His diversion made for a smooth and pleasurable transition and now they were one as husband and wife. Her fingers digging into his back, he marveled in the wonderful wet grip of his wife; so hot and sweet compared to the cool air that nipped at the rest of his naked body. His thrusts were gentle long and deliberate until she ached, cried, begged for more; and then he took her with the strength and ferocity of a barbarian. Moaning and grinding his pelvis into hers, his curls teasing and caressing the delicate bud just above where they joined, torturing her with mind-numbing pleasure. He pulled her smooth shapely leg onto his broad manly shoulder and drove into her so deep she wept softly in ecstasy begging for it to stop before he pushed her over the edge.

But her pleasure had been his goal from the start so he drummed harder, faster, deeper, until her protests transformed to, "Yes... Please… Right there… Don't stop... Don't stop!"

He hoisted the other beautiful leg onto his other shoulder granting greater more pleasurable access to what was only his; the piece of her she'd give to no other man. Digging her nails into his back as he groaned and gripped the sheets fucking her with the pure animal lust of a man unsatisfied for years, she gasped held on to him for dear life climaxing harder than she ever thought possible.

He pulled her legs down still twitching in ecstasy; the ripples of her sweet passionate release had him calling in a manly wanton voice, "Morgana, Oh god Morgana! Should I pull out of you my love?"

She didn't answer; all she did was softly moan, "Percival," as she was pleased for a second time.

"Honey I need to know," Percival begged, dizzy from the mounting, fiery, pleasure, pounding her hot wet core until she ached from it.

Her body trembling from her release, her womanhood swollen and throbbing around his stone hard erection hammering away in her, she lovingly caressed his cheek, "Don't dare pull away from me."

He bent his head to take her mouth, his torso convulsing, his hips pushing hard and deep, until he'd filled her with love's sacred nectar and she realized he was pleased. He rolled her over still joined as she rested on his chest, his satisfied cock still throbbing inside of her. He pulled the covers over the two of them. With passion fading the night air was brisk and he didn't want his angel to get cold.

Percival affectionately kissed the top of his wife's head, gingerly stroking long black tresses cascading over a naked womanly back. Her ear to his chest, she began nodding off to the strong and steady beat of his heart; a heart which only beat for her.

"I love you and I feel guilty for doing these filthy things with you," He admitted. "You're my princess."

"I am your wife Percival, not some slave girl," She vowed. "This was beautiful, a blessing, because I love you so very much."

He smiled finally seeing the beauty of it all and removed his manhood from her core. She bit her lip to keep from gasping from the delicious ache in her nether regions: the soreness that had been wrapped in a blanket of sweet, wanton, pleasure until now. She'd barely felt it when he broke her in. He really did know a few tricks.

Morgana climbed off his chest and lay on her side. He nuzzled up behind her wrapping a strong arm around her middle. He leaned over to kiss the ear he'd hurt for her own good, praying she wouldn't be cross about it.

She spoke dreamily with her eyes closed, "Thank you for what you did. My pain might have otherwise been overwhelming."

He breathed in relief, smiled wistfully, and held her tight as the two of them peacefully drifted off to sleep.

Morgana woke before dawn still lying in her husband's embrace after another horrible nightmare. Since she was a child all her nightmares had been the same: betraying her cousin Arthur, using magic against him, to hurt him, to kill him. She fought out from under a heavy arm as Percival snoozed like a baby. She slipped on his shirt and grabbed a clean nursing gown, hat, apron, and undergarments to change into. Morgana dashed down to the lake. Since she wasn't sleeping anyway she wanted to bathe herself before the others woke up in a couple of hours. The water was cold that morning so she bathed quickly, and dressed herself in record time. That's when she locked eyes with a young Indian girl around fifteen with two small scars above her right breast. The girl was filling her bucket but dropped it as a horrible look fell over her lovely face; a look Morgana knew better than anyone.

_That girl is a seer and she knows something about me. _Morgana declared as the girl turned to flee.

"Wait," Morgana called, chasing after her, praying the girl understood English. "I won't harm you! I'm a seer too!"

At that the girl stopped, "I see glimpses of the past. What kind of seer are you?"

"I see glimpses of the future," Morgana confessed. "What did you see in my past?"

Morgana nearly cried as the Indian girl said, "As a child you were cursed by a voodoo witch to betray your cousin. And that time is nearly upon you. You're going to kill him. That's your destiny, but you already knew that didn't you?"

"No it can't be," Morgana cried refusing to believe her own dreams or the girl's. "Is there any way I can prevent this?"

"I don't believe so, but maybe our medicine man can help you," The girl answered.

Percival stirred and felt for Morgana. He woke up shocked to find her missing. _She must be bathing. _He grinned. _Maybe we can bathe together. _He covered himself, grabbed a change of clothes and the holster which held his pistol, before venturing down to the lake. That's when he saw Morgana sluggishly walking away.

"Morgana! Stop! Morgana!" He bellowed.

Percival could only see the whites of her eyes as she walked in a zombie-like state. She trailed a young Indian girl who bore a sinister smirk. Percival ran with an outstretched gun. He fired off rounds at the young witch who'd possessed his wife with her evil. One bullet catching her arm. Percival gasped as the wound healed itself before his eyes.

Troops sprang from their tents and shelters bearing arms at the sound of gunfire.

"Seize the witch!" Percival ordered. "She's cast a spell on my wife!"

Arthur's heart stopped as he saw the Indian girl's reflection in the lake. Her image was that of the chambermaid who'd poisoned his tea.

"Agravaine!" Arthur vowed with an aimed revolver, careful not to shoot. He didn't want to set off a chain reaction that would get his cousin shot in the process. "Get Merlin from the infirmary!"

Two soldiers took off at his words. The other troops encircled the Indian girl. Who wrapped her arms around a dazed Morgana, gave an evil laugh and vanished with her. Merlin came running, shouting spells, and blasting magic but he was too late. Lancelot and Arthur restrained Percival as he screamed in horror and anguish, surrounded by his brothers in arms: the knights of the round table...

**Thank you for reading chapter 13 :^)**

**-Embrasia-**


	14. Brimstone

Brimstone

The bubbling cauldron stunk as Morgana sat strapped to a chair in front of it. Her captor no longer looked like an Indian girl. Her disguise had worn off. She was fairer skinned, with dark brown tresses, and florescent blue eyes. The only thing that remained throughout the transformation was the two small scars above her right breast.

"Why didn't you just hand Arthur over to the Confederacy to begin with if you were dead set on killing him," Morgana snapped. "Why make me do it!"

The girl answered, "Because Agravaine knew that Arthur was one of the few things Uther would get himself killed over. We figured Uther would die in a shoot out over his son and Arthur would still get hanged. With both of them out of the way Agravaine stood to inherit everything. But Arthur got away! Slippery little bastard."

"I wouldn't take such a strong woman to be Agravaine's lap dog," Morgana growled fighting vigorously against her restraints. "You're pathetic."

The girl laughed, "Silly simple girl. You assume I work for Agravaine when it's he who works for me."

"What have I ever done to you!" Morgana demanded.

"You were born a Pendragon," the girl answered.

"Who are you!" Morgana shouted.

The girl ignored her and drew a syringe full of potion. She sat it on the table to cool.

The witch grinned menacingly and told Morgana, "I won't rest until I've rid the world of every last Pendragon and you're going to help me."

"Never!" Morgana declared. "You'll never turn me against my own! That is not who I am!"

"It's not always about who you are, my dear. Sometimes it's about who you were," The witch caressed the scars above her breast. "Would you like to know how I got these?"

Morgana didn't answer but the witch went on to say. "Your Uncle Uther put to bullets in my chest before throwing my body in the river! He was too stupid to know that a witch must be burned to be destroyed. A mere mortal death only released my soul to possess the first person I came upon. The black body died and I took a white one."

"Nimueh," Morgana declared, a cold chill rolling down her spine.

"Bravo, you're not as stupid as your cousin Arthur," Nimueh snapped. "He assumed I was a chambermaid."

"Why do you hate us," Morgana questioned unsure if she wanted to know the answer.

"Back in Africa they didn't burn those born of magic they worshipped us," Nimueh said. "I was a seer. They called me the oracle. I was held in higher regard than the king himself; a goddess among men. I was never to be ruined by any man, for this would diminish and eventually destroy my gift. The world was at my feet until the slave ships came. I warned your despicable ancestor, Captain Pendragon, that he would rue the day he forced himself upon me. He laughed at my threat and raped me almost every day I was prisoner on that Godforsaken ship and when we arrived in the America's he passed me off to his son like I was a goddamned birthday present! I became well versed in dark magic and I murdered every last Pendragon starting with him and ending with Uther's wife and your parent's"

Morgana's heart began to pound, as tears streamed down her face, "No! My mother and father were shipwrecked! I was the only survivor!"

"Yes, and I wonder how that happened on a clear blue day without a single storm cloud insight," Nimueh grinned, pleased with herself. "I wasn't happy to find out you'd survived but I figured it wasn't a total loss. I could always curse you against your cousin because you are one of the few things Arthur would get himself killed over."

Morgana's pleas fell on deaf ears as Nimueh walked toward her with the syringe.

Nimueh shushed her, "I'm not going to hurt you child. I'm just going to jog your memory…"

_Touch of Life_

Guinevere didn't know which bleeding man to tend to first. Morgana's kidnapping left her one nurse short and Fort Camelot was under attack: one colossal blaze of fire, ash, and Brimstone. It appeared more like the seventh circle of hell than a battlefield. With so much death and mayhem she felt guilty at the fleeting relief that her husband, brother, and friends weren't yet among the casualties. Everywhere she turned were red flames and black smoke; blown off feet still laced up in boots, dismembered hands still bearing wedding bands.

Soldiers cried out from all directions as they held their entrails in, "Nurse! Help me nurse!"

"Nurse please!"

"Nurse!"

Her head snapped north, south, east, and west among the tortured souls screaming for her aid. It never occurred to Gwen that she would hold the power of life and death over so many. Those she helped would likely live. Those she didn't would likely die. All of them were someone's son, husband, brother, and father. Her stomach churning, her head spinning she stood petrified. _How does one choose who should go home to his family…_

Feeling a mixture of panic, horror, and utter disbelief, Gwen looked down as a bloody hand grabbed the tail of her dress.

"Am… I… going to die Nurse?" Stammered a shivering boy not older than seventeen.

It was all she could take. Gwen doubled over and lost her breakfast.

Nurse Tubman grabbed Gwen's shoulders, shouted amidst the chaos, "I know it's overwhelming but I need you! You're the best I've got! Don't focus on them all. Just aim to save one, and then move on to the next."

Gwen nodded, still shaking all over, her stomach still heaving and quivering. She wiped her mouth, crawled to the young man at her feet, forcing the agonizing screams of all the others out of her mind.

"You are not going to die," She vowed regaining her composure.

She started removing supplies from her bag at once.

"What's your name soldier?" She asked, determined to keep him talking, conscious, and among the living.

"Dennis," He replied as she examined the wound in his shoulder.

"You got a girl Dennis," Gwen asked.

"No ma'am. Never had any luck there," He admitted shyly.

"Well you'll have to beat them off now. Women like scars," Gwen assured the boy.

A smile crept over his quivering lips. She smiled down at him and gave him a handle to bite down on. She prepared to clamp the bullet and wrestle it out of his surrounding muscle. She knew removing the shell would be excruciating and felt the urge to hold his hand through it; but didn't. The pain could make him bear down and break every one of her fingers, rendering her useless to save him or anyone else.

"Are you ready Dennis," She asked and he nodded.

A tortured squeal escaped him as she clamped onto the bullet.

Gwen braced herself and counted to three. _I can't save them all but I'll help as many as I can…_

_Touch of Death_

Morgana stormed the battle field with a determined glare and sinister smirk. She launched small explosions and sent balls of flames from her hands. She took down soldiers, horses, and structures; anything that stood in her way. Nimueh's spell had drawn out a different side of her; a side that in another life hated Arthur and everything he stood for. This was a side that remembered nothing of her present life. _I was the legitimate heir to that throne! Arthur stole a crown that was rightfully mine! I won't rest until I'm standing over his cold rotting corpse!_

The troops that got close to her she reached out and touched. Pain shot through them. Their hearts stopped. They fell dead with just a simple contact with her fingertips. Morgana had so much power bottled up inside her, and the witch unleashed it all. Her eyes fell upon a large man who'd once been one of King Arthur's knights; a man who'd helped Arthur bring about her downfall. She mustered a large ball of energy, writhing at the site of him. _Sir Percival… I am truly going to enjoy killing you._

Percival went flying with a blast. He struck a tree and fell to the ground as Morgana took each menacing step towards him.

"Morgana honey," He called as she reached to caress his cheek; to strike him dead with one touch. "That witch is using you!"

"Nimueh freed me," Morgana swore as she lowered to touch him, to kill him.

She whipped around. Dodged a ball of fire. It was Merlin and he was blasting at her again. She shot him first with her own energy. As Merlin went tumbling Morgana knelt by Percival with an outstretched hand. With one blast Merlin had knocked her away from Percival. She fell painfully to the ground as Merlin stormed over to blast her again.

"Get away from my wife!" Percival tackled him.

They tumbled on the ground. They sprung to their feet eyes locked on each other.

Merlin stood poised with a ball of fire hovering at his palm, "This is no longer your wife! She would've killed you!"

Percival aimed his pistol at Merlin, "You may be magic but you're not bullet proof! Step away from my wife!"

Arthur jumped between the two, "Fight the enemy not each other!"

Percival turned to see his injured wife had made her getaway while they fought and Agravaine was wreaking havoc on the battlefield. Agravaine cut soldiers down like wheat as he galloped through on his horse, swinging and slicing, taking heads, arms, and anything in his path. Merlin and Percival quit fighting amongst themselves and charged into the battle.

Arthur looked up. _Anyone who goes near Agravaine is slaughtered. But maybe there's a way I can recover Excalibur without having to go near him._

As the Union flag bearer was shot and fell dead Arthur saw his opportunity. Arthur grabbed the long metal flag post from the dead man's grip. Arthur ran to his horse. He threw a foot in the stirrup and flung himself onto the saddle. He took off across the battlefield, bullets whistling by from all directions. Soldiers on both sides spun around as Arthur let the flag fall horizontally at his side. He ran full speed ahead at Agravaine.

Gwaine stabbed an enemy soldier with a bayonet. He cracked another with the butt of his riffle.

He called out with a puzzled glare, "Is Arthur… jousting?"

Lancelot who was fighting alongside him punched a man out and shot another. He spun around with the same puzzled glare as Arthur used the flag pole to knock Agravaine on his ass. Arthur leaped from his stallion and took up the fallen Excalibur. Agravaine shielded himself as Arthur whipped around swinging steel with all his might, releasing a war cry that would shake the mighty Zues. The sword stabbed into vacant soil as the witch grabbed Agravaine's arm and vanished with him.

Arthur was furious but didn't take time to fret. He devastated confederate forces like nothing they'd ever seen. It was as if the sword was guiding him. It felt as much an extension of himself as an arm or leg.

Agravaine and the witch reappeared just fifty feet away yelling, "Retreat! retreat!" as Arthur swept through the enemy troops like a tornado. Merlin and his knights fought victoriously at his side driving the enemy away.

Agravaine growled as he watched Arthur move as one with mighty Excalibur, "Why didn't that sword work the same for me!"

"Because it wasn't your sword," Nimueh snapped as they fled with their remaining forces. "I'd suggest you pull yourself together because I wasted the last of my vanishing powder saving your worthless ass!"

_When the Smoke Cleared_

Merlin found Percival in his shelter sitting on his bunk. Percival's elbows rested on his knees and his face in his hands.

"Thank you for saving my life," Percival said as he looked up and noticed Merlin.

"I should have a look at you. You're hurt," Merlin insisted, noticing the wine colored stain on the sheets.

"Actually I'm not," Percival said a blush coming over his cheeks.

"Sorry," An embarrassed Merlin replied. "I've only ever broken one virgin and that was a few millennia ago."

Percival laughed for the first time since his wife was taken, "Why is it that you're the only one who can remember your past lives?"

"I don't know," Merlin answered honestly. "But I wish I couldn't."

"Did you know this was going to happen," Percival questioned.

"Yes and no," Merlin admitted. "We've spent many lives with Morgana. Sometimes she turns on us some times she's our greatest ally. She's a two-spirited person. In such a soul the balance between good and evil is very delicate. All it takes is the right influence to tip the scales in the right direction; or wrong direction."

Percival nodded, his eyes blurry with tears, "In the lifetimes where she was good and decent what made the difference."

"You did," Merlin admitted.

Percival confessed, "I'm sorry for attacking you, but I will fight to get my wife back."

He smiled as Merlin vowed, "Then with you we fight."

Arthur weaved through the bustling infirmary. His heart leapt at the sight of Guinevere. He wrapped his arms around her never feeling so appreciative to see her face.

"I'm fine Guinevere. There's no need for tears," He said.

Gwen confessed through heaving sobs, "I… was… surrounded by dead and dying men and for a moment I felt happy. Happy Arthur! Because none of them were you."

He embraced her once more, "Guinevere, you weren't happy they were dead. You were just glad I was alive. That doesn't make you a bad person."

She nodded wiping her tears as Merlin ran up to them.

Merlin rambled off, "There may be a way to lift the curse on Morgana but it requires an Indian medicine man."

"And where are we going to find one of those Merlin," Arthur questioned.

"Don't you have one for a grandfather," Merlin answered.

"Let's get this straight," Arthur snapped. "I'm supposed to just walk up to the same group of people who loath the white man so much that they banished one of their own for marrying one! The Indians were treated worse by the United States than black people! Why would you think this medicine man would welcome his white looking, half-breed, grandson with open arms after banishing his daughter for being pregnant with me! He'd sooner scalp me than help me."

"Unfortunately that's true," Gwen answered solemnly, "But for the sake of the Union and Morgana, they're our only hope. Merlin told me she'll only get stronger."

Arthur shook his head, "No I will not turn to the very people who cast my mother out like garbage."

Gwen took his hands and looked up into his eyes as she said, "We must seek the help of the Apache. But we'll do it with caution because you now have two people counting on you. You're going to be a father. I love you Arthur."


	15. The Wicked Trinity

The Wicked Trinity

Arthur had lead troops into countless battles with the undaunted fortitude of a barbarian warrior and all of the death, chaos, and utter mayhem he'd survived had not stricken more fear in him than the words leaving Guinevere's mouth. "You're going to be a father. I love you Arthur…"

The very soul of him was shaken at that single word…_Father... How can we bring a baby into this? This chaos, this turmoil! Oh god, who will look out for my son in the very likely event of my doom! I'm a soldier for Christ sake! Dear god what if the baby's a girl: a mixed race girl as beautiful as my Guinevere? Will white men feel they have a right to dishonor her at will! If I die who will defend my daughter's virtue!_

"Arthur," Gwen called. She'd been calling his name for some time now as he stared right through her, his look completely blank before turning aghast, horrified at her revelation.

Arthur cringed. _If only Merlin had a potion that could reverse the sands of time. I wish I'd not been so caught up in the passion, not spilled my seed inside my wife. What the hell am I going to do…_When he finally heard her, finally willed his petrified lips to move and bring forth sound it was merely to utter a single syllable, "Shit…"

"Arthur did you just say… **Shit**," Guinevere cried out, fighting back tears. _I give him me: mind, body, and soul… and he says shit…_

_The Wicked Trinity_

A few weeks later Morgana sat in the company of the witch Nimueh and one other; a striking blonde sorceress called Morgause, who loathed men in general. Morgause couldn't wait until the south was a country of its own. So she Morgana and Nimueh could don a new day, one where women held all the power and forced every man and boy into slavery by means of magic. It was obvious to Morgana that Morgause was a woman scorned, but she dared not ask what vile creature from the male species caused this deep-seeded animosity.

With this beautiful but deadly trio as their greatest weapon, the confederacy was beginning to win battles again. Morgana found herself relieved that they hadn't faced off with Arthur's company again. Not out fear of losing against them, but fear of winning. Some piece of her, even in its smallest measure didn't want to see Arthur and Percival killed. _Sir Percival, a sworn enemy, saved my life. I was about to strike him dead and he attacked his own ally in my defense. And Arthur had two chances to strike at me, why did he hesitate both times? They must've spared me in order to force me to aide them in the war at a later time._She decided. It was the only answer that made sense. Morgana hated Arthur and his knights. They hated her. _Then again… Why was Sir Percival calling me wife? I have never and will never give myself to any man, let alone one of Arthur's detestable knights! Or would I? I yearn for Camelot. This year makes absolutely no sense to me._

"Morgana," Morgause snapped while sketching lines on the wall. "Are you going to give your opinion on our strategy or just stare out the window all day?"

Nimueh looked at Morgana, arching an impatient brow at her as well.

"Yes um… We should attack from the east," Morgana finally contributed.

Nimueh and Morgause droned on while Morgana sat half listening. She rubbed the strange scars on her forearm, wondering how she might have gotten them, and why they tingled and sent pleasant shivers up her spine the day she crossed Sir Percival on the battlefield. Morgana smiled to herself almost wistfully at the recollection of the big strapping soldier who'd foiled her plans in the past but came to her rescue in the present. _Enemy or not, he is pretty isn't he?_

That night Percival climbed a tree next to the Pendragon Mansion. He leaped onto Morgana's balcony unsure of how he'd be received. _What the hell am I doing? She doesn't know me anymore. Morgana's more likely to cut my throat than run into my arms._He stealthily opened the balcony doors, shocked it didn't wake her. She was sleeping beautifully, her soft red lips curved slightly in a pleasant smile.

"Percival," she called softly dreaming of him lying between her knees, sending ripples of pleasure throughout her body as he made love to her with long deep strokes. "My Percival." She moaned more so as the scars on her forearm began to tingle adding greater satisfaction to her erotic fantasy.

Her lying at his mercy moaning his name like that was starting to put a knot in his pants. He gave himself a mental slap. _Head in the game. This woman could kill me._He stepped closer and the tingling at her arm intensified so much she snapped straight up in bed. Gasped at the sight of him. A ball of fire instinctively hovering at her palm.

"Don't scream," He implored her. "I haven't come to harm you?"

Morgana sat breathing heavily for what seemed an eternity before dividing the fire she'd conjured into six pieces. Percival watched in awe as each glowing wisp floated across the room and lit a different candle. This cast the elegant chamber in a soft yellow light.

"How did you know where to find me," Morgana asked in an unfamiliar British accent as she climbed out of bed and modestly tied a lacy robe over her gown.

"Gwaine figured Agravaine couldn't wait to take Arthur's property. It's all he ever wanted anyhow." Percival admitted.

She offered him a seat with a simple hand gesture, "You're lucky I have questions I need answering or I would take your head without a second thought."

He lowered himself on the soft elegant lounge, "Well if you don't like what I have to say you can always kill me."

Morgana smiled involuntarily and slipped on a pair of long leather gloves that came clear up to her elbows. After a lot of convincing from Nimueh, Morgana agreed to dip her hands in a potion clear up to the wrists. Nimueh wanted her to submerge her whole body but Morgana told her to go to hell and do it herself. That's when Nimueh explained that very few witches were powerful enough to wield the touch of death, and Morgana was one of them. So Morgana agreed but only allowed the spell to be cast on her hands.

Morgana took a seat next to Percival. "Only my hands will poison you but I can't turn them off."

He nodded at her explanation, smiled at the thought of her protecting him. She'd traded her sweet southern belle accent for that of a proper British noble. Her bright colorful dress had been exchanged for a drab black gown. Her once shining silken black locks were now dull and possessed sporadic braids and dreadlocks. But even as a witch she harnessed a beauty that elicited lustful thoughts from him. _If only her hands are poison that still leaves me a whole lot of real estate to do the unthinkable with. Head in the game already! She's the enemy!_

She pealed down one glove to show him the marks on her forearm. Without taking time to doddle she questioned, "Why do these scars tingle every time you're near?"

"Because your body is trying to tell you something your conscious mind does not remember," He answered.

"Are we truly married?"

"Yes milady."

She shook her head in disbelief somewhat insulted, a litte disgusted, "Liar! I would never give myself to you!"

"That's not what you said the evening you left a blood stain on my sheets," He snapped and soon caught a slap from a gloved hand.

"Smug bastard," Morgana said writhing. "What manner of witchcraft did you possess me with?"

"None, you are in love with me and I you milady," He vowed, his jaw still stinging from her slap.

"I do not love you," She vehemently denied.

"Then why am I still alive," He refuted. "Why were you fantasizing about giving yourself to me? Don't lie. I heard you calling my name."

She blushed a dark shade of red, "I had a silly dream because I find you handsome, but it does not mean that I love you. I've killed many a striking man. What did you come here for?"

"Merely a kiss," He said. "If you feel nothing I will leave you alone. But as long as even a part of you loves me, until my dying breath every part of me will love you."

"Absolutely not!"

"Are you afraid of falling in love with your husband?"

She huffed, "One kiss if you can tell me how I got these scars on my arm."

"As much as I hate myself for allowing it to happen, you were attacked by dogs the night you helped me escape execution." He admitted expecting her response to be one of great anger.

He was relieved when she smiled. She winced in pain as she snatched a thin braid out of her hair which remarkably grew back at full length before his eyes.

She passed the long braided lock to Percival and ordered, "You must bind my wrists first so that my magic doesn't work. Magic is at times a reflex and I don't know how my body will react to being kissed by you."

Percival nodded, smiling again at her protectiveness toward him. He tied her wrists and flirted with a smirk. "You do realize this leaves you defenseless against me."

"Then I suppose you can do whatever you want then huh," She flirted back. _What the hell am I doing! He's the enemy!_

For a fleeting moment he considered throwing her over his shoulder and making off with her since she couldn't use her magic. He decided against this because if caught the other witches would certainly kill him, leaving no one to break the curse. Morgana would remain a witch forever. Instead he smiled and gingerly placed a hand on her cheek before pressing his lips to hers. He gingerly ran his tongue along the crease of her mouth begging permission to enter, which she soon granted. Pleasurable shivers trickled up her spine at the sensation of his tongue caressing hers. His hands moved over her breasts, down her waist before finding a home upon her hips as she invited his mind numbing kiss, welcomed the feel of his hands upon her body.

She longed with anticipation but backed away with fear, "You should leave."

"Why," He whispered with a satisfied smile.

"Because I don't remember you but I want to," She confessed with a whisper. "That's a dangerous position for both of us to be in."

"I am content to be your dirty little secret if that is what you wish of me," He vowed.

Percival listened to her heart, and ignored her words kissing her longer and deeper this time. He ran a hand beneath her gown caressing her thigh without further protest from her. His fingers traveled along the waist band of her undergarments.

"May I touch you here," He begged permission.

"You won't bed me will you," She asked with concern for her virtue breathing heavier than intended.

He shook his head no, "Unless you say otherwise my shaft will stay in my pants."

She nodded and he climbed down on his knees in front of the lounge where she sat. She placed her bound arms around his neck as they drifted into another steamy kiss. She shifted her hips up to assist him as he slowly pulled her panties down off her buttocks, over her thighs and then at last he broke the kiss to pull them off her feet. He lowered his head to place sweet tender kisses on her thighs and gently spread them touching the sensitive parts in between with his fingertips. He soon placed his mouth there gently suckling upon that delicate part of her, flicking it gently with his tongue, swirling his soft wet tongue about her. He slipped a finger inside her as he did this and she moaned his name without meaning to, nearly climaxing upon contact. She bit her lip so hard she thought it would bleed as she gazed at the magnificent view of the top of his head while he pleased her.

"I want you now," she whispered between heaving breaths, not caring at the moment if she sounded like a wanton whore.

He didn't appear at all put off by her forwardness he seemed relieved, excited, turned on by it. He climbed off the floor. He sat back on the lounge. Hastily unzipped his trousers. He pulled them down on his thighs just enough to free his aching, rock hard erection. She slid one knee over him straddling his lap while he took her by the hips and gently lowered her upon his desire. Both of them gasped in pleasure as he slid into her. She slipped her still bound hands over his head leaving her arms to rest on his shoulders as he slipped his tongue back into her waiting mouth. His hands still on her hips he gripped them gently, guiding her up and down the length of him, back and forth while they engaged in their passionate kiss. Her buttocks bumping against the trousers he didn't take time to remove, she began moving her hips in a circular motion. He gasped at her wanton eagerness and his grip grew tighter on her hips, pushing up into her when she shied away, making her take all of him until her belly ached with a subtle cramp and queasiness from his reach. She worked him faster, almost lustfully, with the sensation of his pelvis brushing against the sensitive place he'd licked so delicately, and soon she and Percival finished together with a gentle cry of each other's names. Still joined they held one another in a breathless sweaty heap, neither knowing what to say or do next. Both of them wishing they hadn't allowed their feelings to overtake their good sense. He freed her wrists. They dressed quickly and without words. He reached for her.

"Get out," Morgana finally said. "And be warned. A foolish fancy will not prevent me from killing you if we face one another on the battlefront."

He nodded and left without words. Morgana went out on her balcony for fresh air, mentally chastising herself for her stupidity. She cried softly. The pleasant sensation in her arm disappeared with his absence and she found herself already missing it, missing him. Morgana froze at the site Nimueh's judging eyes on the next balcony over.

"He was cute," Nimueh chimed. "But sleeping with him might make it a little difficult to…um I don't know… kill him!"

"Believe me, we didn't do any sleeping," Morgana snidely replied.

They both stormed into the hall and Nimueh yelled, "He is not your husband Morgana! Your enemies just want you to believe so. You only heard him calling you wife after Merlin struck you with magic. Wake up. You were never married to that man. He's nothing more than a spy."

"Even if he is a Trojan horse why should I deny myself the pleasure of a ride or two," Morgana shot back. "And if I was never married then how is it that I got PREGNANT!"

Nimueh stood mouth ajar, trying to think of a lie quickly, "Alright I'll level with you. You did wed him but merely as a means of gaining intelligence. Your marriage wasn't real."

"Truly, tell that to my womb which is growing his child as we speak," Morgana declared. "Enemy or no enemy this marriage feels pretty damn real to me. If not for love, how did I get these marks upon my forearm?"

Nimueh took Morgana by her gloved hands and spoke, "You attained those scars in battle, nothing more. Child or no child Sir Percival does not love you. He's merely obsessed with what's between your legs and too dumb to know the difference. Don't let this stand in the way of all we could accomplish together. The south will be a country of its own soon, and who better to lead it than us? "

Morgana nodded holding back tears, "You're right. Arthur is evil. I wouldn't put it past him to have one of his company play on my emotions like this."

Nimueh gave a sigh of relief as Morgana returned to her chamber.

Morgause joined Nimueh in the corridor, "I overheard."

Nimueh grimaced with a grit of her teeth, "Love is a stronger force than I anticipated."

"Looks like we're going to have to kill Morgana's distraction," Morgause offered.

"Percival or the baby," Nimueh asked.

"I'm thinking both," Morgause replied with a thoughtful sinister smirk.


	16. The Apothecary

The Apothecary

Percival ventured through the dark eerie woods in the direction of Apache Falls. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end at the crunch of leaves behind him. He stopped, looked over his shoulder at the nagging feeling that he wasn't alone. Before he could draw his weapon a hand grabbed him. His heart stopped. He drew no breath.

"Did you get it," Lancelot asked.

Percival breathed a sigh of relief, "You gave me a fright. I got the first of the three kisses to break the witches spell. It's too bad each kiss has to be at least a day apart or she'd be cured already."

Lancelot gave him an impressed nod and a grin, "My brother Percival, I never knew you to be such a charmer. You got a woman who detests you to kiss you, and not only that, more than once!"

Percival grinned shyly and bit his lip. _I got her to do a whole lot more than kiss me._"I learned from the best: my brother Lancelot."

Lancelot graciously received the compliment, "Did you get a lock of her hair? Arthur's grandfather will need it to strip her of that touch of death."

Percival nodded, still clutching the braid he'd bound her wrists with right before she gave herself to him, "I don't know what I'll do if the medicine man's spells do not work. I can want for Morgana to love me again, but that won't make it so."

"The spells will work and she does love you," Lancelot insisted. "She just doesn't know it yet,"

As they forged on hacking branches out of the way Percival asked, "Do you believe love conquers all things?"

"It's the strongest force in the world," Lancelot assured him. "I once got a kiss from a girl who hated me." _Actually I got more than a kiss. She let me have her in a parlor at Morgana's coming out party._

"Truly," Percival asked. "She kissed you?"

"Yes, I didn't know she was betrothed to Arthur at the time. He actually caught me…um… kissing her." Lancelot admitted with guilt. _That's why I never admitted my feelings for Gwen. I couldn't hurt the guy twice even though the first time was unintentional. She never told me she was engaged._

"Why didn't you marry her after Arthur called off the wedding," Percival asked. "The damage was already done."

"She confessed that she'd been with Arthur just once, but she didn't love him. Her father had forced her to seduce Arthur because he knew that would get him to propose. Arthur's a prat but a chivalrous one; he would never ruin a girl he had no intention of keeping. She told me her father was forcing the marriage to gain political ties here in America, but I couldn't forgive her deception. I called her a harlot and told her to never speak to me again." Lancelot sighed. "I regret my actions every day because it wasn't long after that I realized that I loved her."

"Lancelot."

"Yes."

"Never give up hope," Percival said. "Love conquers all remember."

Lancelot gave an appreciative nod and a slight smile, "Thank you."

They boarded their waiting horses and ventured forward to Apache Falls, where the rest of their troop awaited.

"My apologies but I can't recall the name of that gorgeous girl who tore your heart out," Percival admitted.

Lancelot answered forlornly, ruefully, "Her name was Lady Morgause."

_Apache Falls_

Arthur was surprised at how well he was received by his Indian family. They expressed sincere remorse for banishing his mother and father. They commented fondly about Uther, said he was hard working, protective of the other members of the tribe, and completely in love with Arthur's birth mother; even though the two were not more than fourteen when she got pregnant with Arthur. Arthur was elated to actually hear that at some point his father had been a decent and loving man. Even if the Uther he grew up with was anything but. And though the Apache couldn't have cared less if the United States destroyed itself, they agreed to help the union out of love for Arthur alone. They would try to aide him in regaining the South's most deadly weapon: his cousin Morgana. In return Arthur solemnly vowed to use his political influence to uphold all treaties signed between the Apache and the American government.

Gwen sat high upon the mountain cliff, the morning dew casting a million sparkles over blades of green grass, tree leaves, and flower petals. She delighted in the scent of sweet berries, the hearty aroma of rich black soil, and the enchanting smell of a fresh marine breeze from the three enormous waterfalls. Shimmering majestic waters rushed over the cliff falling hundreds of feet to the valley below, where it encountered age old boulders covered with a patina of lovely green algae. From this heavenly throne the breaking dawn seemed to make the mountains sing with vibrant colors. _I don't_ _blame the Apache at all for fighting to hold on to their land. This place is paradise._

"Is this a bribe," Gwen called to Arthur over the loud surging waters.

"This is defiantly a bribe," Arthur admitted as he finished cooking their breakfast by campfire.

He walked over with a plate of bacon, eggs, and berries, "I'm so sorry for the way I reacted Guinevere. It's just that I love you and I love our baby. I couldn't live if I lost either of you."

"It's alright," She assured him patting the ground next to her. "I'm scared too Arthur."

He sat and slipped a strong arm around her slender shoulders, gingerly kissed the side of her face. She turned toward him and their lips met in a short sweet peck. Gwen didn't eat much. She'd been a little nauseous since she woke up. She lay down on their soft blanket and rested her head upon Arthur's lap.

"I'm sorry you're not feeling well," Arthur told her.

"Don't be, my morning sickness is the only thing that makes it seem real," She smiled wistfully. "We're having a baby Arthur."

He smiled and placed his warm jacket over her shoulders, the dark blue wool providing protection from the cool morning air. He fed her tender berries and she closed her eyes, smiling softly, swirling the tangy sweetness around her tongue. With father mode kicking in Arthur was determined to get further nutrients into her. She would have to be strong for his baby, they both would.

"Guinevere"

"Yes Arthur"

"You have nothing to fear," He promised. "I can't think of a single soul who has ever walked God's green earth who would make a more wonderful mother than you."

She wiped a tear from her eye and raised her face to his, kissing him with all the love and warmth her soul possessed.

_The Apothecary_

The stagecoach came to a screeching halt as Morgana gave a knock on the window.

"Why are we stopping," Nimueh and Morgause questioned.

Their driver, Helios, hopped down and walked around to open the door. Morgana gave him a gloved hand as he assisted her down the steps.

Morgana turned to them and said, "I'm stopping by the boutique to purchase fabric for a new dress. Carry on to the apothecary. I'll meet you there."

With a slam of the door and a crack of the long black whip Helios brought the horses to a trot. As the carriage bounced down the brick road Morgana entered the boutique. Elegant dresses displayed on manikins. Bolts of fine fabric lay rolled on racks. Morgana put a beautiful gown made for a baby girl up to her still flat stomach. The tiny dress was practically a ball of pink satin and ruffles Morgana smiled as she looked in the mirror. Then she put a tiny tuxedo against her belly; its penguin tails and tiny bow tie melting the ice off of her heart. An even brighter grin lit her face. It took everything within her not to whirl around in utter happiness like a little girl.

"Expecting Mademoiselle," Asked the storekeeper as Morgana gazed longingly back and forth between the infant's dress and the suit.

She slapped them back on the rack immediately and lied to the gray-haired gentleman, "I was just looking at these for my niece and nephew but they're a little out of my price range. I'll take a few yards of your finest black fabric."

The man nodded, not totally buying her explanation, and began measuring and cutting her fabric. She soon paid him and walked down the street with her bags, a tear leaving her eye, a shadow cast upon her soul. _Morgause and Nimueh are right. I don't have time to be playing wifey to a wretched spy or chasing his snot-nosed brat. I have a war to win and a country to run. Now is not the time for weakness._She gazed at the countless folks passing her by in the busy city of New Orleans; men mounted high on horses, ladies whizzing by in stagecoaches, young lovers strolling leisurely hand in hand without a care in the world. _It's amazing how one can be surrounded by many and yet feel utterly alone._

"Mademoiselle"

She whipped around. It was the shopkeeper, "You forgot a bag."

"This isn't mine," Morgana said as she noticed the baby clothes inside, the very dress and tuxedo she'd been admiring.

"The gentleman purchased them for you," The shopkeeper explained.

She looked up to find Percival exiting the boutique and she smiled, though she fought the urge to. The shopkeeper turned to leave. Percival jogged toward her sending pleasurable tingles up her arm as he came into proximity.

"You followed me," Morgana snapped. "How'd you know I was pregnant?"

"I didn't until I saw you through the store window," Percival admitted. "There was something about the way you looked at yourself; scared and yet excited at the same time, like you were holding on to a precious secret."

He pulled her close and kissed her right there on the bustling city streets. She eagerly matched his passionate kiss until she remembered how close the Apothecary was. _Nimueh and Morgause will kill him._

Morgana pushed him away and snapped, "You've wasted your money. I haven't decided to keep your baby."

"You haven't decided to kill it either." With a ginger caress of her cheek he went away, and with him so did the wonderful feeling in her arm as well as her heart.

She fought back her tears, stiffened her shoulders in pride, and carried on to the Apothecary.

Morgana spotted her stagecoach parked outside of a rutty looking building.

As she approach Morgause asked, "Are you sure you don't want us to go in with you."

"I'll be fine," Morgana insisted.

She passed Nimueh the bags of black fabric but was careful to bring the baby clothes with her. Morgana couldn't bear to part with them even though she'd come to the apothecary to end her pregnancy. _I owe Percival nothing, he isn't my real husband anyway, and he lied to me about the scars on my arm._She knocked twice. A short red haired man with a long black apron opened the door. She took a deep breath and stepped into the dim building, festooned with candles, plants, herbs, and kept insects. She nervously pulled at her gloves which came just above the wrist. She hated this pair but couldn't find her long leather ones.

"How may I help ya lass," The man called in an Irish accent.

She hesitated for what seemed an eternity before informing him, "I'm here for an abortifacient."

He looked her over, "You're still flat so I can assume quickening has not occurred. I won't sell an abortifacient once quickening starts."

"Yes Sir, I understand," She nodded and vowed. "I've felt no movement."

He began to combine powders and liquids on his laboratory table. He assured her, "Ya have nothin to worry about lass, my mixtures are safe. I can understand why ya wouldn't want to be pregnant while you're on the run."

"I beg your pardon," Morgana snapped.

He pointed at the scars on her forearm, "I've practiced medicine for two decades. I know a dog bite when I see one."

"I got these scars in battle," She rebutted.

"Sure ya did if ya were battling a pack of hounds," The man said with a snicker. _Wow these mixed raced slaves get fairer skinned every year. I can't tell them apart from the white people anymore._ "Don't worry lass; I'm not going to turn ya in."

Morgana drew no breath. Her heart pounded hard. Her thoughts raced. _Percival was telling the truth._ The man passed her the small vial which held the abortifacient remedy. She took it and turned to leave with her mind still whirling around the revelation.

"Hey," the man called.

She was so stunned she'd forgotten to pay. She hastily opened her purse. She shoved every dollar inside in the doctor's palm and fled. She shielded her eyes from the bright afternoon sun as she bolted outside. Morgana jumped in the stagecoach.

"Did something go wrong," Nimueh asked.

Morgana didn't answer.

Morgause looked at the bottle still in Morgana's palm, and asked, "What's the hold up? Drink it."

Nimueh agreed with an expecting glare as the stagecoach ventured down the path.

Morgana's furious lips finally brought forth sound, "God knows I am no saint. If this were the unwelcome, illegitimate, bastard of some brute I drug home from the tavern then you better believe I would cheer bottoms up and chug this poison like a frothy mug of ale! But that is not the case! Percival was telling the truth about my scars. You knew I loved him and you would standby and allow me to kill his child!"

Nimueh and Morgause froze. They looked at one another, both silently demanding the other to speak.

At last Nimueh took the initiative, "I'm sorry Morgana. I swear I didn't know how you felt about him. I'll support you in any way you need."

Morgana felt an ounce of relief as Morgause offered her support as well.

"I'm keeping this baby," Morgana decided and tossed the abortifacient out the window.

As Morgana turned and looked away the tiny bottle ceased abruptly in the air. Nimueh used her magic to inconspicuously fling it on to the driving bench with Helios._I'll retrieve the poison later and give it to her without her knowledge. As long as Morgana stays pregnant she won't charge into battle with us. We need her to win this war. When I find that Percival he is going to suffer an excruciating, horrible, death._

Morgana smiled as Nimueh and Morgause thoughtfully admired the baby clothes.

Nimueh asked Morgana cheerfully, "So have you thought of any names?"

_Back at the falls_

Gwen smiled thoughtfully as she saw her patient Dennis up and around, leisurely strolling with a pretty young Indian girl named Spotted Deer. They'd been attached at the hip since he arrived. He respectfully tipped his hat to Gwen, his savior. She gave him a pleasant nod and returned to Arthur.

Percival climbed down off his horse and announced, "I got the second kiss!"

Everyone, soldier and Indian alike, cheered for him and the fate of the Union unaware of just how difficult it would be to get the final kiss.

"Only one kiss to go," Gwen said to Arthur.

Arthur smiled, "I could use a kiss myself."

She puckered and he informed her, "Not this time."

Gwen's heart melted as Arthur took a knee and placed a loving kiss upon her belly. He whispered something to his baby she didn't quite catch. She moved to ask what he'd said but thought better not to. That conversation was between Arthur and baby. The last thing she wanted was to interrupt their bonding.

_The Witches Brew_

Helios and the wicked trio reached the mansion. They kept very few servants in order to keep their military strategies secret. Helios was the only slave they relied upon. As a former warlord he knew tactics they could only dream of. They liked to pick his maniacle brain, and his shared hatred of Arthur and Elyan made him popular as well. With no cook the women took turns making dinner. Tonight Morgause had kitchen duty. Nimueh slipped the abortifacient to Morgause.

"This isn't right," Morgause protested.

Nimueh reminded her, "I recall this being your idea."

"It was my idea to convince Morgana to take the abortifacient," Morgause corrected. "It is not my idea to slip it into her food without her knowledge. This is wrong."

Nimueh replied, "It's the right thing to do for our cause. I thought you yearned for a man free society. And what's best for the cause is what's best for all of us including Morgana. She's just too distracted by that wicked male and his festering parasite to see clearly."

Morgause nodded, seeing the bigger picture, "If we do it this way Morgana will harbor no guilt. She'll believe she miscarried the child naturally."

Agravaine approached and questioned impatiently, "Is she rid of it yet. We need you three on the battlefront."

Nimueh caressed his cheek and promised, "She will be soon."

An hour later all four of them sat in the dining hall, steam rising from their pot roast and vegetables. Morgana picked at her food with a fork. She didn't have much of an appetite.

"You should at least have a few bites," Morgause said to a nauseous Morgana.

Nimueh agreed, "She's right. You should eat something Morgana. Think of your baby."

Morgana nodded and started eating her vegetables at once. Agravaine's lips curved up in a satisfied smile, which spread to Morgause, and Nimueh. Morgana grew dizzy and soon excused herself from the table. Agravaine, Morgause, and Nimueh, clinked glasses, and toasted at the boom of Morgana collapsing in the corridor.

"To certain victory," Morgause cheered with an evil smile and her glass raised high.

Morgana woke up hours later, with her wrists and ankles bound with rope. She was rumbling down the street in a wagon with a tarp covering it. _Oh god I've been kidnapped._ Her scream came out a muffled squeal as Morgause clasped a hand over her mouth.

"I'm going to help you," Morgause said as she cut Morgana's wrist restraints. "I'm sorry I slipped you a sedative but I had to convince Agravaine and Nimueh they had my loyalty. They asked me to kill your baby without your knowledge or permission. I couldn't bring myself to do it."

Morgana breathed a sigh of relief, hugging Morgause tight, and thanking her repeatedly for her mercy.

**Thank you for reading and reviewing chapter 16 :^)**

**-Embrasia-**


	17. The British Nurse

The British Nurse

It was the wee hours of the morning and Gwen was still hard at work in the infirmary beneath the glow of an oil lamp. She used a pair of shears to cut clean white material into bandages for the injured. She wiped the sweat from her brow. It had been a hot sticky day and the night wasn't much better. She stopped at the feel of arms around her waist, the tingle of lips on the back of her neck.

"Arthur, I know what you're thinking and the answer is no," Gwen giggled. "There's too much work to be done."

She wasn't sure what he had in mind. That rickety gurney would not hold the two of them, especially in the throes of passion but Arthur was known for being resourceful. There had been so much tension between them since the pregnancy news came out that they hadn't made love in a while. It was getting to him, getting to both of them. He stuck out his bottom lip and pouted like a toddler.

"I'm not falling for the lip this time," Gwen swore. "People will hear us in here."

"I know a place where they won't," Arthur replied before placing his lips upon hers, slipping his tongue into her welcoming mouth.

Gwen delighted in the feel of his kiss and matched him passionately, her hands caressing his shoulders and the nape of his neck, while his hands eagerly rubbed and gripped her bottom. He needed this, they both did.

She pushed him off breathlessly and reluctantly. "I'm open to suggestion."

"I hope you're open to more than that," Arthur flirted as he took her by the hand and jogged off with her.

Arthur held Gwen's hand tight as they walked behind the majestic waterfalls, slipping along the rocks, being sprayed by a pleasant cool mist. There was something so soothing, romantic, almost magical about this place: A flowing dazzling wall to their front, a small cavern to their rear, the ever present Shhhh of rushing waters.

Arthur set the oil lamp he'd used to guide their path on top of a boulder, "I don't believe anyone will hear us here."

Gwen beckoned him with a naughty smile and a come hither look. He grinned, took her hand and pulled her close, cealing their mouths once more in a loving kiss. She unbuttoned his uniform just enough to bare his neck and place her tongue upon his salty smooth skin. Arthur closed his eyes and exhaled slowly as she slipped her hands into his pants, fighting the urge to grab her and take her body with hard powerful strokes. It had been too long since he'd enjoyed his wife and now she was teasing his neck with her mouth, wrapping her hand around his erection running up and down the length of it. The pleasure had him yearning to cry out her name but he fought the urge, determined to protect her honor.

He pulled up her dress slipped a hand down her pantaloons and caressed her folds with one hand, massaged her breasts with the other. She anxiously unbuttoned the top of her dress and he smiled at how much she'd filled out lately. Her corset could barely contain them. With his fingers still working he placed his warm wet mouth upon a round swollen breast, swirling his tongue around the nipple, repeating this sensual act with the other waiting mound, making everything below as slippery as the cascade which concealed them. She bit her lip to keep from moaning his name in ecstasy; for fear that they'd be heard. With an animalistic need building inside of him, his manhood so hard it begged for relief Arthur turned Guinevere around and placed a hand on her back, gently guiding her forward over the boulder. He eagerly pulled down her panties, allowed his own pants to fall to his ankles and lowered his hips just slightly. She stood legs slightly apart poised and eager to take him as he slid his stone hard desire into her hot wet sheath. She gasped dragging her nails across the rock, shuddering in a small climax merely from his entry. She was entirely surprised by herself, a little embarrassed at how sensitive her body had become to his touch. Everything Arthur caressed, licked, fucked felt so much more intense and he himself was wrought with desire by her need for him. He yearned to tear into her but fought the urge, forced himself to be gentle. She glanced behind her watching him mount her with a slow and gentle pace, treating her as delicately as he could for she was harboring precious cargo.

"You won't break me Arthur," She promised, her voice needy almost wanton.

He smiled and picked up the pace but remained gentle and loving, reaching around her hip to wiggle his fingers back and forth over the sensitive parts between her lower lips, while he drummed her sweet wet core with a steady rhythm .

The wanton moan she'd been holding hostage escaped her, "Arthur."

"Guinevere," He replied with a lustful groan of his own, neither caring at this point who'd bore witness to their passion, to the love they felt for one another.

He kissed the back of her neck, her earlobe, the side of her face, every part of her within reach while his hips and fingers worked them both into a sweat. He reached up to caress a still bare breast with his free hand, gently squeezed the nipple, and she cried out her orgasm without meaning to. The sound of her voice so heavy with lust and the throbbing of her tight slippery womanhood, were enough to make him grab himself and pull out of her spilling his seed on the ground with a few gasping jerks of his wrist.

Gwen smiled deeply moved by his tenderness and sensitivity. _This part of me is sacred to Arthur now. He treats it like a shrine. He didn't want to soil me with his nectar, though I wouldn't have minded at all._

"I love you Guinevere," he said still catching his breath. "I pray I didn't harm you."

"I promise you didn't," She vowed with a kiss of his lips. "I love you too Arthur."

They bathed in sweet beautiful silence in the cool gurgling waters that pooled below and then wrapped their moist naked frames up as one in the blanket she'd brought with her. Arthur lowered to the ground sitting with his back to the boulder. Gwen sat between his legs resting her bare back on his naked chest comforted by the warmth of his strong arms encircling her shoulders and breasts. They listened to the whistling of the birds and watched the clear blue waterfalls, wrapped in nothing but a blanket and each other's love.

_The British Nurse_

"Eeeek!" Squeaked the lovely, blonde, nurse as she peeled off Tristan's soiled bandages.

Tristan's stern face lit up with a hearty laugh. He'd known this spoiled rich girl for many years. He was still shocked she signed on for all the blood, guts, and unpleasantness of war.

"I can take care of him milady," Gwen offered sympathetically.

Tristan protested with an amused grin at the blonde girl's squeamishness, "Thank you Gwen, but Vivian has to learn for herself and who better to practice on than an old friend?"

Vivian smiled at his reassurance. Her sparkling blue eyes lit right up.

"Well if you need assistance I'll be close by," Gwen informed them and moved on to the next patient.

"Oh God it's on my hand!" Vivian squealed in disgust of the blood. "Oh bugger!"

Nurse Tubman snickered and whispered to Gwen, "I'm surprised that spoiled brat lasted this long, always complaining about this or that."

Gwen chuckled, "At least she didn't throw up this time."

Gwen shook her head in amusement and bewilderment. _Lady Vivian is the daughter of a British nobleman, a diplomat. What on earth is she doing here?_

Arthur and the others stood close by. They were waiting for Tristan to get done in the infirmary so they could conduct their counsel.

Arthur noticed the passing glances between Gwaine and the young blonde nurse.

Arthur grinned and gave him an elbow, "Are you going to talk to her."

Gwaine shook his head, "She's not my type."

Arthur laughed, "I know the girl. She's alright, and since when is beautiful and blonde not your type."

Elyan questioned Gwaine with a smile, "Is it your humble upbringing that makes you detest her royal demeanor?"

When Gwaine ignored the question Lancelot said grinning, "I think it's her proper British accent that boils Gwaine's Irish blood. It's no secret that the British and Irish have had conflicts for ages."

Gwaine smirked. _Everyone is doing their best to profile a profiler. They're not even close._

You're all wrong Leon said as he approached with Percival, "I know exactly why Gwaine won't talk to that nurse."

"Oh really," Gwaine said with intrigue and playful sarcasm. "I'd love to know the answer."

Leon smirked, "It's obvious you have a history with her."

"There's no way they courted," Arthur chuckled. "Vivian is so haughty and British and Gwaine is so… well… Gwaine."

"And that's precisely why they balanced each other out," Leon insisted.

Gwaine's face went ghost white, "I… I don't know her."

"Liar," Leon scoffed.

Arthur and the others looked at Leon, amazed that he could rattle someone as playful and charismatic as Gwaine.

Leon grinned, "The nurses aren't paid like we are. They're all volunteers. Nurse Vivian is of Noble blood and the heir of over 500 slaves. She stands to lose a fortune if the north wins. Why else would she risk her life and inheritance to help us if not for sake of being near you?"

As Gwaine stood flabbergasted Vivian finished wrapping the sterile dressings around Tristan's calf.

"Thanks. You did great," Tristan informed her. "I can't believe you're out here in the trenches with us."

"Neither me," Vivian replied with a longing gaze at Gwaine. "Most days it seems all for naught. He hasn't even talked to me."

"He will," Tristan promised her. "I told Captain Leon on him."

Vivian snickered and hugged Tristan tight.

As Tristan returned to the other knights Gwaine gasped in relief, "Oh thank God you're finished. Now we can get on with the war counsel and off of my personal life."

"Actually I'm more interested in hearing about you and this Vivian girl," Replied a nosey Merlin. The other prying knights agreed.

Soft-hearted Percival stuck up for Gwaine, "Give him a break. I'm sure the captain is ready to convene."

Captain Leon shook his head, "Out with it soldier."

_Damn._Gwaine grimaced. "I fled Ireland to escape the British only to end up working for them in America. I took a job as Vivian's stable boy when I arrived here, and my Aunt took a position as her maid. Vivian and I grew up together. We fell in love, or at least I did."

"What's that supposed to mean," asked Arthur.

Gwaine sighed and shook his head, "I was poor and Irish. Vivian refused to tell her family about us. She would only be with me in secret, like she was ashamed of me or something. And then her despicable father murdered my aunt and got away with it! I never talked to Vivian again. I'm not sure why she's here but it's certainly not for me. I didn't tell her I was leaving for war."

"I did," Tristan confessed.

"I'm going to kill you," Gwaine growled. "I never wanted to see that woman again! And she's here because of you!"

Leon and Arthur restrained Gwaine to keep him from choking his best friend.

Tristan argued, "You're being stupid Gwaine! Vivian should not be hated for the sins of her father! And did it ever occur to you that she kept your relationship a secret because she knew her father was a dangerous man!"

Vivian approached with tears in her eyes. She placed a hand on Gwaine's cheek, which soothed him like a savage beast allowing Arthur and Leon to release him. Gwaine writhed with anger, furious at the effect Vivian still had on him._Years later and her tears still eat away at me._

"You'll hear what she has to say," Leon snapped. "She's earned that much."

As Gwaine moved to protest Leon added, "That's an order soldier!"

"Can he do that," Gwaine asked Arthur.

Arthur smirked, "Leon is our captain. He can order us to do whatever the hell he wants. I'd suggest you talk to the lady before you get court-martialed."

Gwaine backed down and spoke in a jovial manner, "I've heard nothing good about a court-martial." With an exasperated breath he grudgingly turned to Vivian, "Does Tristan speak the truth."

She nodded, "I was never ashamed of you. I was merely protecting you. My father was very over protective to the point that he was controlling. He wouldn't have thought twice about killing a poor Irish boy for soiling his daughter, and the law would not have stood in his way due to diplomatic immunity, and racism." Her tears fell and she looked away from him. "I know it couldn't have been easy for you after the atrocity committed on your aunt, but you just left my sister and me at the mercy of that horrible man! You don't want to know what he did to my poor big sister Morgause."

Lancelot gasped in shock of the name, "The Lady Morgause is your sister! Where is she! I must find her."

Vivian told Lancelot, "She disappeared years ago. Were you a friend?"

Lancelot nodded and Gwaine asked frantically, "What happened to your sister?"

Vivian shook her head and wiped her tears with the backs of her hands, "Not in front of Arthur and Gwen."

"It's alright Vivian. I've moved on," Arthur assured her, clutching his wife's hand. "Guinevere and I have no secrets."

Vivian nodded and took a deep breath, "My father forced Morgause to seduce Arthur even though her heart belonged to another. I never met the man she talked about, and she never told me his name. He was a poor overseer deemed unsuitable for marriage. My sister loathed him in the beginning, but there was something so peculiar about the young man. He was so stately, regal, and well-educated. If she didn't know better she might have sworn he was an aristocrat. My sister was in love with the overseer but engaged to Arthur. The night of Morgana's coming out party Morgause pulled him into a private parlor to tell him the truth and ask him to runaway and elope with her. But the overseer assumed she snuck off to be with him for other reasons. The moment they were alone she couldn't get a word out before he started to kiss her and touch her. One thing led to another and he made love to her right there on the lounge. Arthur was searching for this ever charming overseer to dance with his cousin, and walked in on Morgause and the boy just after they'd finished. Arthur and his friend got into a fight. After it was broken up Arthur asked a big tall friend of his to dance with Morgana instead. And the overseer told my sister to never speak to him again. She was pregnant with his baby."

All the color drained from Lancelot's face. _I had no idea!_ "Oh god, what happened to the baby?"

Vivian didn't answer she began to sob uncontrollably. Gwaine didn't know what to do in response to her anguish. _I feel like an idiot, a complete and utter ass. I want to hold her so bad and make everything better, but will she want me to after I turned my back on her._

Tristan gave Vivian his handkerchief and wrapped his arms around her. She clutched the front of his uniform, her tears soaking into his shirt.

Gwaine pleaded, "I know it's hard but you have to tell us where Morgause's baby is. We can't leave that child with your rotten bastard of a father."

Vivian sniffled, "Morgause was betrayed by an ambitious house servant who noticed that she hadn't written her monthly cycles on the calendar in a while. Father beat my sister mercilessly and made his slaves hold her down while he pinched her nose and poured an abortafacient down her throat. I caught a black eye trying to help her, but I could not succeed on my own. Somewhere between being abandoned by the man she loved in her greatest hour of need and what my father did, ruined Morgause. She grew bitter, hated all men and one day she just disappeared."

A tear rolled down Lancelot's cheek without him even caring if the other men saw. Lancelot murmured almost to himself, "If we'd eloped like she wanted none of this would've happened."

Vivian's nostrils flared and her eyes reddened like that of a raging bull. The veins on her temples pulsed, "It was you!" She snatched the nurse hat off her head and cast it to the ground, "I've had enough of pining after bull-headed oafs who loath the site of me and supplying medical treatment to rotten bastards who abandoned my sister! I quit!"

Vivian slapped both Lancelot and Gwaine hard enough to leave a pink handprint on their faces. Then she stormed away. Gwaine followed her feeling guilty for his own betrayal. His anger, sorrow, and pride had allowed him to push away the only girl he'd ever loved when all she'd ever done was protect him. Had he been around he would've never allowed her father to hurt Morgause in such a horrible way. He could've helped her. _Oh my goodness, I left Vivian and Morgause with that lunatic to fend for themselves. I never thought in a million years Lord Olaf would hurt his own daughters._

"Vivian," Gwaine called as he chased her. He caught up with her and grabbed her hand.

"Get away from me," She screamed beating him on the chest with small bawled up fists, her tears pouring. "You just left us! You left me."

Gwaine stood unfazed by her swings, allowing her to cry and scream and let out her anger until she dropped to her knees exhausted. Her throat was raw from her cries of anguish her arms tired from the swinging.

"You left me," She murmured repeatedly, her face shining with tears, her voice hoarse and barely discernible.

He knelt in front of her and pulled her to his chest praying she wouldn't resist. He was relieved when she wrapped her hands around his middle, locking her fingers at his back while she wept. He embraced her, kissed the top of her head affectionately.

"I messed up. I should've been there to protect you. I would've taken you and Morgause with me when I left the estate had I known you were not immune to Olaf's wrath," Gwaine vowed. "I am truly sorry, but I refuse to lose you again, and I'm going to find your sister."

Gwaine didn't realize he wouldn't have to find Morgause because she and Morgana had already found them. Vivian picked up her skirts and ran across the prairie at the site of her sister and Morgana in the distance. Morgause approached in a fitting pants suit made of shiny black leather. Morgana walked to the right of her in a flowing black gown. Gwaine took off with Vivian. She ran as swiftly as her feet could carry her. Vivian's slipper came off. She left it abandoned in the grass praying for wings so she could fly to her long lost sister that much faster. Her prayers went unanswered and she settled for the legs god had given her, using all the strength within them to shorten the distance between the two.

Gwaine's face filled with confusion as Morgana and Morgause's arms popped straight out at their sides. Their arms came stiffly together at the front of them as a flowing blue ball of energy materialized. It grew larger, flashes of electricity zipping throughout it. A myriad of confederate troops appeared behind the two witches. Enormous beams shot out of Morgause and Morgana's hands.

"Vivian!" Gwaine leaped. Grabbed her. They rolled across the ground. A thunderous boom sounded off overhead.

Gwaine looked behind him to find an enormous tree completely obliterated. Its wooden chunks lay scattered in flames...


	18. Final Faceoff Part 1

Final Faceoff Part: 1

"Run!"

"Run for your lives!" Morgana and Morgause screamed.

Their heels were firmly planted in the ground. They were being drug forward and utilized by an invisible force, leaving two large streaks of tilled soil behind their boots. More explosions were launched while they screamed and fought against whatever was possessing them. Morgause had trusted the wrong driver to help her and Morgana escape. Helios turned them right over to Nimueh for a night of passion with her and a change in status. Now Morgana and Morgause were prisoners of their own bodies being used to conquer and destroy.

Gwaine snatched Vivian's arm and ran while instructing her, "Gather the Apache women and children with Gwen and seek refuge."

She nodded and took off.

xXx

Arthur suited up for battle and apologized to his grandfather as well as the Apache chief, "I'm so sorry to have brought destruction to this place of peace."

The Medicine man informed him, "They're not here for you. I doubt they even knew you were stationed here."

Chief Blazing Arrow, a handsome apache man around thirty, assured Arthur, "They're here for our land. It's better that you're here to help us defend it."

Chief Blazing Arrow and the Apache warriors ran out armed. A fleet of arrows rained on confederate soldiers, puncturing hearts, faces, limbs. The enemy troops hurdled over their dead and dying, charging forward with gleaming bayonets jutting off of long rifles. The Buffalo soldiers and knights ran into the battle readily firing at the enemy. Men fell like rain on both sides as the atmosphere clouded with heavy smoke, flying bullets, and falling debris. Chief Blazing Arrow struck down the confederate flag bearer. The chief threw the large red flag bearing an _X_of stars right into the flames. The Confederacy writhed at the site of their symbol burning, while Union forces reveled and triumphed in its destruction. With an earth trembling, war cry the Apache and Union forces collided with confederates on the battlefront erupting in a full on melee. Apache warriors fought ferociously in hand to hand combat. They wielded tomahawks, knives, bows, and pistols with the skill of expert craftsmen. Buffalo soldiers battled alongside them with the strength, courage, and honor of any man defending his family's freedom.

Arthur swept through confederate troops with Excalibur. A bullet whizzed past his face. Before he could turn to see where it had come from, the shooter fell dead from his horse, a dagger protruding from his eye. Arthur gasped at the vision of his savior.

"Guinevere," Arthur cried out as he shoved his sword in another confederate. "Seek shelter with the women and children!"

Gwen was on the battlefield dropping the enemy one by one, hurling knives and daggers like an expert marksman.

Gwen slit the throat of an enemy soldier, stabbed another in the stomach. She yelled amidst the melee, "And with you we fight, remember!"

Arthur whipped around with his sword taking the head clean off a confederate who was charging her, "Watch your back woman! I can't live without my heart either. That's an order Nurse Pendragon!"

"Yes Sir, Lieutenant Pendragon," Gwen shouted amongst the chaos, deep in the belly of the fight.

Arthur whipped around at the sound of his name. It was Morgana.

"Kill me Arthur!" She bellowed as her arms flailed uncontrollably, firing bursts of magic in all directions.

He dodged a ball of fire, "No! Hang in there cousin! Percival is coming to help you."

As Morgan was slowly drug toward a shelter full of women and children she pleaded, "If we were ever friends, ever, you'll strike me down."

At that moment Arthur looked way up high to find Nimueh and Agravaine standing atop Apache falls, manipulating the legs and arms of two voodoo dolls. One controlled Morgana. The other controlled Morgause.

Arthur vowed, "I can stop this cousin! Nobody has to die!"

xXx

Arthur's grandfather passed a small vial to Percival and said, "Do you know what to do."

Percival downed the surprisingly sweet tasting potion and nodded, "I grab Morgana and give her the third kiss to rid her of her magic and memories of Camelot. After I do this she'll only harbor memories from this life. "

The old man nodded, "But be careful to only give her the one kiss until the potion wears off you. A forth magical kiss will grant her both present and past memories."

Percival nodded and charged into the fight. He punched out, shot down, and subdued all he confronted on his way to Morgana, leaving a trail of injured and dead behind him as he pushed forward. He realized this quest would likely take his life. _There's no way I'll be able to get to her without her killing me. I only hope that I can cure her before she does._

Percival ducked and dodged blasts of fire and energy in an attempt to get to Morgana before she blew up hundreds of women and children. He hit the ground as a blast of magic caught him in the chest. His body lay still, not blinking, breathing or moving.

xXx

Vivian screamed as Lord Olaf grabbed her by the hair and drug her out of the shelter. He bellowed, "You would betray me for some piece of Irish rubbish! I own you!"

He released her with a wail as Gwaine cracked him with the butt of his rifle.

"That's for Morgause!" Gwaine shouted before giving him a swift chop to the throat. "And that's for Vivian!"

Olaf fell to his knees coughing. Gwaine kicked him hard in the face with his boot. Olaf flew back spewing blood and shattered teeth. Gwaine stomped him in the ribs, devastated his jaw with a powerful punch. Kicked him forcefully between his legs. Olaf grabbed his shattered crotch with a tortured squeal; his eyes tearing up in excruciating pain and nausea.

Gwaine bellowed, "That's for my aunt!"

Gwaine stood poised over the crumpled tyrant with a razor sharp bayonet at his throat. Olaf pleaded for his life while his daughter looked on in tears. Gwaine had waited years for sweet revenge, his arms shook with anticipation of piercing Olaf's black heart; but Gwaine took one look at Vivian's tortured face and withdrew his rifle. _This motherless pile of pig dung is still my beloved's father._

"Return to England and never come back," Gwaine growled and left Olaf to bleed.

Gwaine froze at the unmistakable clink of Olaf pulling back on the hammer of his firearm. The pistol was aimed at the back of his head.

Vivian tears poured as Olaf said to Gwaine, "You should've finished me, because that's exactly what I'm going to do to you."

xXx

Gwen bit the large man's hand and stomped his foot. She escaped his grasp only to be snared again.

"Why didn't you just shoot me?! What do you want?!" She screamed as he drug her into a vacant long house. She ran to the other side searching for an exit, but her captor stood in front of the only one.

"We have unfinished business my dear," Called the large burly man with an eerily familiar growl.

It was the overseer who nearly raped her that night she got caught with Arthur. Her blood turned cold as she saw the deranged expression on his face. She could smell the nauseating sweet odor of whiskey from clear across the room. She shuddered as he approached looking for anything she could use as a weapon. She backed away slowly and before she knew it her back was against the wall. He stretched out an arm to brace the wall she was trapped against. She could feel him breathing on her: hot moist breath on her face. He was so close now their bodies nearly touched. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and tears fill her eyes. _What's going through his demented mind? Is he going to hurt me, rape me…_

xXx

As the rain began to pour Helios tackled Elyan to the ground. They tumbled about the battlefield, pelting one another in the blood and the mud.

"You killed my brother!" Helios bellowed as he squeezed Elyan's throat.

Elyan clobbered him with a rock and sprung to his feet gasping for air, "How many brothers have you killed Helios! How many husbands, wives and children!"

Elyan kicked him in the stomach. Helios doubled over and caught another blow to the head. Elyan kneed him in the face. Helios fell over, blood gushing from his nose. Elyan pulled his revolver and aimed it at Helios' massive chest. It was more difficult to shoot a former childhood friend than he anticipated. Their tribes had not always been enemies.

Elyan yelled, "When will you realize that you killed your own brother Helios! You were in love with Gwen. She was promised to you, and she ended up here because of your greed!"

Helios questioned as he stared death in the face, "You had a chance to kill me on that beach. Why didn't you?"

"Because I foolishly believe that you are a flawed but decent man," Elyan confessed. "Now you have sisters with no one to care for them. When will you realize you're fighting for the wrong side! Get far away from here Helios, before I change my mind."

Helios took off running and disappeared into the storm, while Elyan chastised himself for not shooting the scoundrel.

Put down the pistol boy, "Called a confederate as Elyan was forced to surrender."

xXx

"Behind you!" Lancelot yelled as he shot a man who was about to impale Tristan.

"Thanks," Tristan called as he knocked a confederate to the ground, and split his skull with a fallen tomahawk.

"Don't mention it," Lancelot said as he grabbed the arm of an enemy soldier and flipped him over his back; then he stabbed the confederate's heart with his bayonet.

Lancelot and Tristan heard a series of metallic clinks as they found themselves surrounded by the enemy. The knights dropped their weapons. They were clapped in irons and locked in a small cell atop a rolling cart.

xXx

Nimueh threw a palm full of dust on her and Agravaine. They vanished from the top of the cliff, and appeared abruptly at the battlefront. Merlin struck Nimueh with a ball of energy. She cried out, tumbled over the ground. She tilted back to her feet like a falling tree in reverse, without bending any of her joints. She launched magic at Merlin with both hands. Merlin cried out in agony as he was hit. He dropped like an anchor, but landed another hit on the witch with his magic. Merlin climbed to his feet only to be struck down painfully. He sent a large boulder flying at Nimueh. She deflected it with her powers. He rolled from its path just before it could crush him but he wouldn't be able to hold her off for long.

xXx

Agravaine ran at Arthur with the outstretched gun. Arthur took a shot at his uncle but just missed him. Agrivaine continued to charge and let off rounds of his own. Arthur was struck in the shoulder. He ducked behind a tree. He'd never been shot before. The stinging burning sensation was intolerable. It was nearly as bad as the led ripping through his flesh. Arthur couldn't remember a time he was ever in so much agony. It hurt to breath but he endured. He reloaded his gun and crept around a shelter. He blindsided Agrivaine and tackled him to the cold muddy ground. Agrivaine's gun went flying out in front of him. Arthur struck his uncle forcefully, punched him again. Arthur climbed to his feet, rainwater and blood running down his torso. Agrivaine eyeballed the gun and Arthur kicked it even further away.

"Arthur, wait please. Would you kill your own uncle?" Agrivaine pleaded.

"I'm sorry," Arthur told his uncle remorsefully and regretfully.

Arthur drew back on the hammer of the gun; a tear leaving his eye. He closed his eyes and prepared to pull the trigger. Arthur's pistol fell, splashed into a puddle as he felt his leg break. He collapsed on the ground in agony, holding his shattered limb. White bone pierced through torn bloody flesh. Arthur looked over to find Nimueh smiling, holding a voodoo doll with a snapped leg. Arthur clenched his eyes tight as she raised a razor sharp pick, reeling to pierce the heart of it.


	19. Final Faceoff Part 2

Final Faceoff Part: 2

The cool rain revived Percival. He climbed painfully to his feet. He was no doctor but could tell his ribs were broken. A rain drenched Morgana stood amidst the storm. Lightening split the gray skies above her. Her sporadic firing stopped as her palms shot out in front of her. An enormous ball of energy forming in front of them.

"Nooooo," She screamed, trying to stop herself, at the sound of whimpering infants, and crying mothers.

"It's now or never," Percival ran full speed ahead. Hoping to use himself as a shield and deflect the inevitable blast.

Merlin saw this and ran to his aide. Merlin struck a tree branch and sent it crashing onto two confederates who got in his way. He struck a third enemy with a ball of fire. He suspended another high in the air. Hurled him like a cannon ball at his company of men. The six enemy soldiers toppled like bowling pins. With his path clear Merlin bound Morgana's arms with a glowing enchanted rope.

"Hurry! This spell won't hold her for long," Merlin shouted.

Percival ran, leaped, and sealed their lips in a kiss before she could break out of Merlin's enchantment. Morgana fell limp in Percival's arms; her awesome power defused. Percival gave Merlin an appreciative nod, which Merlin returned before running off to face Morgause. Percival carried Morgana's limp body behind the shelter.

She revived and gazed up at him speaking in her familiar southern belle accent, "Where am I?"

Percival smiled for a brief moment before his head lowered, tears filled his eyes as he was forced to make the most difficult decision of his life, all around them people were being slaughtered. Merlin needed Morgana to help him subdue Morgause, and it would take all three of them to defeat Nimueh. The witch had lied about not being as powerful as Morgana because she didn't want to bear the touch of death herself. Such a burden would have made it difficult if not impossible for Nimueh to whore around with Agravaine, like she'd been doing for the last twenty years. In all actuality Nimueh was stronger than Merlin, Morgana, and Morgause, but by the power of three they stood a chance against her. Merlin needed all the help he could get and Morgana couldn't remember how to use her magic without her memories from Camelot.

Percival told his wife, "You have magic and you can save many lives, but you won't know how to use it unless I kiss you and give you back some ugly memories."

She nodded, her tears falling and intermingling with the heavy rain, "If I can help then I should help. I'll still love you Percival. There's no way I couldn't."

She closed her eyes and kissed him deeply. All of her medieval memories flooding back to her. Her eyes shot open. She jumped away from him.

"Do you know who I am," Percival asked anxiously.

Morgana backed away poised with magic hovering at both gloved hands, "You were the bane of my existence! But you are also the love of my life."

He smiled relieved, and they both ran into the battle. Percival had broken the spell on Morgana. All evil had been lifted but her touch of death; which would take a longer more complex ritual to rid her of. Morgana and Merlin together over powered Morgause and bound her hands so Nimueh could no longer use her magic.

xXx

Gwen punched, scratched, even bit the enormous man; all to no avail. She cried as he presses his body against hers. He caressed her face and bumps rose on her skin. He grazed her cheek with his lips, rubbed her body. Her tears poured as she begged him to stop. Her feeble pleas fell on deaf ears as he pulled up her dress. He rubbed her thighs, touched her between them, and then pressed his rough chapped lips against her neck. He kissed the skin just above her collar bone; sucked it almost affectionately and she resisted the urge to vomit while she pounded her fist against his shirted back.

He thumbed the waist band of her panties and made his best attempt to whisper seductively, "This doesn't have to hurt you know. Just relax and give yourself to me and I'll make you my mistress after the war. You'll be the highest ranking slave in my household; working directly under me."

Tears poured over Guinevere's cheeks as she put her hands down his pants. _What other choice do I have? He'll kill me if I don't._

The brute closed his eyes, his thin chapped lips curving up in a smile, "That's it. Good girl."

His eyes grew large at the blast of gunfire and horrible pain. Gwen had pulled the trigger of his gun while it was still in the holster, shooting him in the foot.

"I'll get you! You little harlot!" He screamed in agony as Gwen ran over to the window.

The pane of glass shattered under the force of her punch. She gathered the shards with a bleeding hand as the scoundrel limped forward to kill her. She sent them flying at him, riddling his body until the giant fell dead at her feet.

xXx

Gwaine raised his hands in surrender as Lord Olaf stood with a gun aimed at the back of his head.

"What are you waiting for? Shoot you coward." Gwaine growled with undaunted fortitude.

Olaf smirked, "A bullet is too good for an Irish piece of shit like you. I have other things in mind, more painful things. You're worthless you know. At least you're Aunt was good for a lay."

Gwaine's teeth began to grit and grind as Olaf said, "She moaned like a wanton whore the night I ravished her and choked the life out of her."

The sound of gunfire was all but deafening as Vivian snatched the revolver from Gwaine's holster and unloaded all six bullets into her father's chest. The gun clicked again and again as she tried to fire more rounds that weren't there.

"It's okay. He's dead," Gwaine said, pulling the gun from her trembling hands. Vivian shook all over, stunned, horrified. She collapsed in Gwaine's arms.

xXx

Elyan raised his hands as the confederate gloated, "If you go easy now I'll take ya back to my plantation. Strong boy like you will make a good breeder. I won't even send you to the fields. You can be my personal slave. How's that sound?"

Elyan's blood boiled, "I'd rather die than be your goddamned pet!"

"Suit yourself," The confederate drew back on the hammer of the gun.

Elyan awaited the inevitable bullet that would end it all. He gasped as a bullet whole appeared in the soldiers forehead. Elyan looked up to find Helios with a smoking pistol.

A bewildered look crossed Elyan's face as Helios admitted, "You're right. My brother is dead because of me. My betrothed is married to another. I'll be damned if I leave my sisters to fend for themselves. It's time I started fighting for the right side. Their holding two of your men prisoner to be later tortured for information. I have the keys to their cell."

Elyan ran off with Helios to free Tristan and Lancelot.

xXx

Agravaine held up a hand and told Nimueh, "Thanks but I'll take the pleasure of killing this little bastard."

Nimueh shrugged, "Suit yourself."

Arthur struggled vigorously at the sound of Agravaine's cold heartless words. Arthur caught a glimpse of his fallen sword, but couldn't quite get to it before Agravaine drug him to the river. Arthur's body nearly went into shock when he went under the icy frigid water. He kicked his feet rapidly until he reached the surface. Arthur managed to capture just one chest full of air before Agravaine grabbed his head and forced him back under. Arthur fought for his life beneath the surface of the freezing cold water. He felt his body growing weaker and weaker as he began losing consciousness. He took a final swing and felt his exhausted arm graze a broken bottle. Arthur grabbed the glass and shoved it into Agravaine's thigh. Agravaine let out a blood curdling wail and released him right away. Arthur sprung out of the water breathing heavily, and threw his forearm around Agrivaine's neck. Agravaine desperately kicked and splashed around in the river as Arthur pulled his arm tighter and tighter around his throat. Agravaine pried at Arthur's arms as he struggled to breath. Arthur squeezed even tighter. Agrivaine's eyes bulged and his body went limp. Arthur released his lifeless corpse into the river. It bobbed along the surface of the water face down. Arthur used what little strength he had left to swim to shore.

"Arthur," Gwen screamed as he lay on the ground in a broken bloody heap.

She dropped to her knees at his side and went to work mending his awful wounds.

xXx

Merlin, Morgana, and Morgause took on Nimueh together, firing magic, dodging and blocking.

Morgause called as she fired magic, from her palms, "What do we do Morgana? Nimueh keeps healing herself!"

"Nimueh's a witch! She must be burned," Morgana replied.

At those words Merlin drove his fist into the ground so hard it quaked the vast land. The battling soldiers toppled at the rumbling. A large wooden stake materialized, jutting ten feet high from the hole. Merlin clutched hands with Morgana and Morgause. By their awesome powers combined they flung Nimueh back to the stake. Nimueh wailed in horror and struggled ferociously as they bound her to the wooden post, by means of shimmering enchanted rope.

"On the count of three conjure all the fire inside of you!" Merlin ordered. "One! Two!"

An inferno swept up the stake. Merlin, Morgana, and Morgause collapsed on the ground unconscious, their energy entirely drained. Nimueh's dress caught first, bursting into tall leaping flames while she screamed in anguish, twisting and turning her tortured body. With her nerves misfiring her face morphed into every disguise she'd ever worn: a small red haired boy, a lovely Indian girl, a confederate spy; until at last the transformations ceased at a wicked demoness in a lovely African form. Her screams quieted and then ceased all together as the skin melted from her skeleton, and soon the bones had turned to ash. And the world was rid of her evil soul once and for all.

Merlin stirred, barely strong enough to climb to his feet as confederates all around him were surrendering. Cheers erupted from Apache and Union forces.

"She'll be alright," Merlin promised Lancelot as a worried Lancelot knelt and cradled an unconscious Morgause.

Arthur hobbled over, his leg in a splint. "Cousin," He cried as he knelt by her.

"Are you alright," Arthur asked as a woozy Morgana began to blink and stir.

She nodded and Arthur pulled her to her feet.

She smiled as Arthur informed her, "Its over. We've won."

Percival took Morgana in his arms, though it caused him much pain to do so. And Arthur kissed his own wife with a whole new appreciation.

A horrified look swept over Morgana's face. She envisioned an injured confederate rising with a pistol. The enemy shot Arthur in the back. Morgana broke her and Percival's embrace.

"Arthur, behind you!" Morgana screamed as she shoved her cousin from the bullet's path.

Morgana hurled a rock onto the confederate, crushing him before he could get another round off. Morgana and Gwen crawled over to Arthur shocked to see him not moving. Morgana had shoved him out of the way in time. Why wasn't he breathing? Gwen began to scream and panic as Arthur stared blankly with glassy lifeless eyes.

That's when Morgana noticed the hole in the finger of her glove. She'd poisoned Arthur to death without meaning to, "Merlin!"

"Merlin!" Morgana screamed with enough force to quake the earth and send boulders crashing down from the mountains.

Merlin came running to their aide amidst the earthquake, but even he couldn't undue dead…


	20. Epilogue: Alone on an Island Beach

Alone on an Island Beach

With Nimueh destroyed the Union held all the cards. The south was forced to surrender. President Lincoln passed the Emancipation Proclamation and added the 13th Amendment to the Constitution abolishing slavery once and for all.

Tristan burned the notorious brothel to the ground and set all the slaves free. When the bartender/owner objected Tristan tied him to a post and let each of the girls get a few hits on him with the lash. The owner barely survived but at least now he knew what it felt like to end up on the wrong end of a whip.

Morgana felt horrible for what happened to Arthur. It took a lot of support from Gwen and the knights to pull her together. They swore it wasn't her fault and promised that Arthur had fulfilled the prophecy and freed the people just as Merlin knew he would. Now Gwen and the knights had come to the island of her and Elyan's origin to watch Elyan and Eurydice express their love in holy matrimony.

The island was astonishing, a tropical paradise of dormant volcanoes, palm trees, and dazzling waterfalls. Waves crashed on the sandy shore as Gwen walked along the beach.

Her heart ached as she glanced at all the happy couples. Elyan and Eurydice were preparing for their wedding ceremony and Gwen couldn't think of a time she'd ever seen two people more infatuated with each other.

Morgana smiled as she opened Gwen's gift: a Christening bonnet for her bundle of joy, made from Percival's favorite hanky. Percival turned to Gwen and mouthed the words _Thank you._Percival shook his head reluctantly at his wife's request. Morgana placed his hand on her belly and assured him with a grin, "It's alright to get attached. You get to keep this one."

He smiled and dipped low to place a ginger kiss on her belly, "You know what we're having, don't you?"

"Maybe," Morgana said with a sneaky smirk.

"Well are you going to tell me if we'll need the dress or the tux," Percival questioned eagerly.

Morgana grinned and shook her head no. A defeated Percival rose to place a loving kiss on her lips.

Lancelot and Morgause were taking a late afternoon stroll on the beach, learning to trust one another again. They paused watching the sunset over the vast sparkling ocean. He gathered his nerve and walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. He smiled as she didn't reject him. This gave him greater courage to sneak a kiss on her cheek that lit her face on fire, and now her lips curved up in a smile.

"Ouch," Squeaked Isolde as her rhythm-less husband Tristan stepped on her foot for a second time. The beautiful former slave wore her gorgeous blonde curls in an elegant braid that fell over one shoulder. She was attempting to teach Tristan to dance and failing miserably. He was awful at it, but Isolde didn't mind. She was just happy to be dancing for the sheer joy of it with the man she loved, and not for the purpose of advertisement.

"You're not that bad," She assured him.

His stern face lit up in a smile at her comforting lie. He placed a tender peck on her lips, which turned into a full blown kiss.

A dark haired beauty named Mithian was peacefully sleeping on her husband Leon's chest. They lay together in a hammock, catching up on much needed R&R while Gwaine and Vivian looked after the couple's five children.

Vivian held the baby boy at arm's length while he wailed, her head tilted in bewilderment and frustration. "Are you sure it doesn't need medical attention?"

"**His** name is Henry. He's not an **it**," Gwaine laughed at his fiancée while Leon's oldest child clung to his back like a monkey.

"He just wants a little love," Gwaine explained. "Hold him close to your heart and pat him gently on the back."

Vivian nervously brought the infant to her chest and smiled brightly as he calmed down, "I'm not sure I'll ever be able to do this. It comes so naturally to Mithian."

Gwaine assured her, "Vivian you'll make a great mother someday, but please no time soon. Leon's litter is a handful."

"I couldn't agree more," She giggled.

Gwaine smiled and placed a loving peck on her lips. _Thank god she took me back._

"Uncle Waine"

"Uncle Waine"

"Uncle Waine," Exclaimed the three year old triplet girls.

"Do the monster face please," They pouted dragging out the word.

"Rarr, Rarr," He chased them playfully with the five year old boy on his back, the children's laughter ringing cheerfully like heavenly bells.

Gwen ceased in front of an enormous rock with a glimmering sword jutting out of it. She forlornly ran her fingers over the handle of Excalibur, which Merlin fused in a gigantic stone in order to prevent it from falling into the wrong hands. The words inscribed on the blade: _For the once and future king._ Gwen rubbed her rounding belly and watched the beautiful sunset alone in deep contemplation. _It hardly seems fair, that after all Arthur and I have been through together, he won't be by my side on this night._Her eyes filled with tears of sorrow that soon escaped and trickled down her cheeks.

Leon yawned, stretched and walked over to Gwen, "Are you ready? It's almost time, Princess."

Gwen wiped her tears and solemnly replied, "Leon thank you for offering to escort me to the ceremony. But I'll understand if you would like to take your wife instead."

Mithian walked up and said, "That's nonsense Gwen. I don't mind if Leon goes with you. This is your brother's night. You shouldn't be alone."

Gwen gave an appreciative nod and took Leon's arm. She could already hear the beating of the drums in the distance, and ventured toward them. Gwen paused, mid-step as Arthur limped toward her.

Her heart leapt with total happiness. _Merlin couldn't undue dead but thank the gods Freya could._

Arthur called to the others, "Carry on without us. Guinevere and I will catch up."

The rest of the couples continued on to the celebration, leaving Arthur and Gwen alone on the beautiful beach. The sunset painted the sky and sea in a breath-taking array of colors.

They strolled along the cool wet sand and waves washed over their bare feet.

Gwen smiled at her husband and scolded him, "Arthur! Your heart stopped less than a month ago. Freya had to rise from Apache Falls and feed you waters from the lake of Avalon to bring you back from the clutches of death its self. She said for you to rest at least six weeks in order for Morgana's poison to leave your system. What are you doing out of bed! You should be resting."

Arthur let out a painful laugh. "I've been resting for almost a month. Besides I wouldn't miss this night for anything in the world."

Arthur and Gwen froze in shock to find Dr. Emrys standing weightlessly atop the ocean waters. Merlin had traded his brown waist coat, red scarf, and dark breeches for a sparkling white toga; which hung regally from his left shoulder. His short black locks intermingled with a crown of golden leaves. At the moment he was ravenously taking the mouth and neck and shoulder of a beautiful brown eyed goddess they'd come to know very well. He rubbed and gripped her smooth white thigh hiked high upon his hip, her long dark tresses flowing down to her butt as her head lolled back in ecstasy. He cupped her cute round bottom and lifted her while she wrapped her legs around his back. She eagerly ran her delicate fingers over the nape of his neck, through his short black hair, while returning his loving affection, his enamoring breathtaking kisses.

"Merlin!" Arthur yelled with a chuckle. "You're going to be late for the wedding."

Merlin took his tongue out of Freya's mouth with an exasperated breath and they both turned toward Arthur.

Without ever putting his wife down, both hands still supporting her by her soft rotund cheeks Merlin jested, "Arthur I have one date a year with my wife and I beg not to be late for it." Merlin's bright blue eyes flashed and a small wedding present appeared. "Please give this to Elyan and Eurydice with my sincerest apologies."

Gwen nodded and bowed respectfully to the Roman Emperor of old, "Sure thing your majesty."

"You better be the world's best father Arthur Pendragon. You don't want to know the trouble I got in for interfering with mortal affairs in order to save you." Freya joked, her legs still wrapped about her husband's slender frame, her arms still at the back of Merlin's neck.

Arthur gave an _oops_look and scratched the back of his head.

Freya snickered. _They shaved time off my husband's visits because I assisted that prat. Myrddin is going to kill Arthur when he finds out, which sort of defeats the purpose._

"My sincerest thanks for saving my life Mrs. Emrys," Arthur said with a respectful nod and a smile.

Freya gave Arthur and Gwen a genuine smile. Then she turned to admire her husband. Merlin appeared so handsome and regal; the setting sun gleaming off his golden leafy crown and sparkling white robes: a stately Roman emperor if ever she'd seen one. Freya placed her lips upon Merlin's and snatched him back. Together they plunged into the cool sparkling ocean on a voyage to the hidden and sacred paradise of Avalon.

Arthur turned to find two gift boxes on the sand, "The blue gift is for the bride and groom but who is the yellow box for?"

"That one is for us," Gwen replied smiling. "Morgana still has visions. She knows the genders of both our babies and this yellow gift will reveal that precious secret. This is why I've left it wrapped all this time, waiting for you to wake up, so we can find out together."

Arthur smiled, "I can hardly wait."

Gwen's eyes filled with concern, suddenly remembering her husband's ordeal. "As your nurse, I recommend you return to bed this instant. Need I remind you that your heart ceased to beat? You drew no breath Arthur. I thought I'd lost you forever."

She laughed as Arthur replied, "You're fired Guinevere. You're no longer my nurse. Tonight you're simply my wife."

They knelt together on the warm gritty sand, their hearts pounding with anticipation as Arthur pulled the black ribbon off the yellow box. Their muscles tense, their stomachs quivering; neither of them could recall a time they'd ever been so nervous. Gwen took the lid with trembling hands. Both her and Arthur smiled at the contents, happy to know the gender of their baby. Arthur wrapped Gwen in a loving embrace and looked deep into her soft brown eyes.

While they sat in each other's arms he whispered, "Guinevere, you never had anything to worry about. The only one who's ever been capable of stopping my heart is you."

As Arthur and Guinevere kissed passionately on the island beach, they knew they would be together for all eternity, in this life and the next.

*The End*

**Dedicated to Aaron La`Cour 1992 - 2012 Rest in heavenly peace for you are my Elyan**

**Much thanks and appreciation to everyone who reviewed, followed, and favorited **_**The Slave and the Soldier**_**. I really hope you enjoyed the story :^)**

**-Embrasia-**


	21. Bonus Chapter

**You know how after sitting through an eternity of mind numbing credits the director of a movie will reward you with a tiny bonus scene? Well this is sort of like that. Just a bit of fluff for those who like Merlin/Freya, and are curious about the sacred city. I do not recommend this chapter for those who want to leave Avalon to their own imagination. Thank you for bearing with me through**_**The Slave & the Soldier**_**. I know I put the characters through hell. *smiles***

**-Embrasia-**

Amazed

Merlin brushed a lock of lovely black hair from his wife's bare shoulder. He placed a tender kiss there and she stirred a little, but didn't wake. She smiled ever so sweetly in her sleep and he gave a toothy grin in response to her happiness; a profound joy that would soon end that afternoon when they'd be forced to part for an entire year.

The very thought of yesterday was starting to make him hard. The way she rushed him through the palace calling apologies to her parents, the way they ripped off each other's coverings and tore into one another with a ravenous desperation, a need that had to be fulfilled before they could focus on anything else. The mighty Zeus himself hosted an annual ball in honor of Merlin's visit. But Merlin and Freya were so busy loving, and screwing, and just delighting in each other's company that they showed up late heaving to catch their breath from racing up the steps of Mount Olympus. They spewed apologies, which Zeus graciously accepted with a knowing smirk.

Merlin pulled the covers over her beautiful porcelain shoulder that cool morning and kissed her soft sweet smelling hair. The scent of peaches and lavender enveloped him and he found himself grinning again; for something as simple as her lovely smell, was one of the things he yearned most for in his absence.

He tied a thin white sheet around his waist and breathed in her soft sweet fragrance once more before climbing out of the enormous bed. His bare feet padded across the cold marble floor as he thrust open the double doors leading to an elegant stone balcony. It seemed only fitting that a daughter of the lake would have a palace on the sea. Freya lived with her father, the mighty Poseidon himself and her mother the lovely Calypso. Together her parents reigned as God and Goddess of the seas. Any other man would be intimidated to have Gods for in-laws, but Merlin fit right in among immortals. On earth he often felt lonely and different; but here in paradise he'd never felt more at peace. Running through the lush green meadows of Avalon with his wife. Making sweet passionate love to her on the beach. He belonged here. Avalon was home and Freya was the keeper of his soul.

Merlin walked out into the brightness, determined not to miss an amazing paradise sunrise. He loved everything about the sun: the way it sprung forth at dawn in all its majesty and set in the evening returning to the heavens from which it came. He loved the way it breathed life into a planet, even the tingle of its kiss upon his skin. He embraced the warmth on his naked chest and arms as the breaking dawn made the ocean waters dazzle; painting the sky in a soft pink, orange, and lavender. The white crested waves lapped upon a sandy shore as two unicorns frolicked on the beach. Lovely mermaids convened together on the reef, giggling joyously and splashing one another. This is where the gods sent the sacred creatures to live: the ones human beings nearly wiped from existence long ago, out of greed or just plain ignorance. Even fire breathers with enormous wings and florescent scales glided on the winds high above; they were yet another divine gift taken away from mankind do to maltreatment. Merlin smiled as he felt warm arms around his waist, a soft smooth cheek upon his back.

"I love you Freya," He said as he pulled her around to face him.

"I love you too," she vowed looking up into his large blue eyes, her back resting against the stone balcony banister.

"I'm the only mortal allowed on Mt. Olympus and I show my appreciation by getting there late every year," Merlin complained.

She chuckled softly, "To error is human. They'll cut you some slack."

"It still astounds me how like us you are," Merlin admitted. "The goddesses were gossiping about one another. Zeus was goofing off and whispering jokes at people's expense. Some gods and goddesses were silly, some were serious, some shy, and others outgoing. Divine couples were slipping off to slake their desires."

"Including my parents," Freya announced with a hand over her face. She cringed, "disgusting."

Merlin chuckled, "I really like that Zeus. He was hilarious."

Freya rolled her eyes, "I suppose he's alright for a philandering jackass."

"Even you were reminding me which deities to befriend and which to watch out for." Merlin said with amusement, "The main one to keep away from, being your own cousin Eris."

"She is the goddess of discord. Caused the Trojan war you know," Freya giggled.

He nodded with a grin, "Aphrodite gave me an ear full about that. Something about a golden apple inscribed to the fairest."

"That's why Eris is never invited to anything," Freya huffed and then she smiled at her husband's naivety, "If humans are made in our image why would you expect us to be different from you?"

"I guess I never thought of it that way," Merlin confessed gazing into her large chocolate eyes sparkling in merriment.

"You are so beautiful," He said not even to her but to himself as a reminder of his supreme fortune in being the one she chose as the keeper of her heart.

She felt her cheeks grow warm as he devoured her with his eyes. _How can he still make me feel like a virgin girl?_She smiled and caressed his cheek, "How do you do it?"

"What?"

"Continue to amaze me after all this time"

He grinned and with a wink their sheets shot to the balcony floor. He took her tiny hands in his, and leaned forward to brace her with a kiss; his tongue slipping into her waiting mouth, his hands sliding around the back of her to grip her bottom. He pulled her soft warm body into his, lifting her and she wrapped her smooth toned legs around his slender frame. He took her to bed and laid her on the cool linens. He took a piece of ice from the pail that held their champagne. He placed the cold melting rock between his lips, ever so slowly running it down her neck and then over a pair of perky snow-white breasts, eliciting shivers of ecstasy. Once the ice was melted, gone, he swirled his cold wet tongue around her lovely pink nipple. She jumped; a pleasurable squeal escaping her lips: a gentle cry of her husband's name. He paused for a moment with a satisfied smile before moving on to the other soft sweet breast, its nipple already peaked in anticipation of his suckling. Her fingers combed his short black locks as her head lolled to and fro. He rained pleasure on her with every kiss and caress. Her wanton moans like sweet music too his ears, making him harder by the second.

He took her breast from his mouth and whispered, "You don't know what you do to me."

"I have a pretty good idea," She whispered back with a smile, taking possession of the part of him that like his heart would never belong to anyone but her.

His jaw clenched at the gentle grip of her hand running up and down his hard length. He spread her legs and climbed between them, his arms stretched out at full length so he could look down into her beautiful brown eyes as he took her. He teased her taunt opening with the tip of him running up and down the length of her slit, its slipperiness palpable from here. He silently begged permission to enter, yearned to receive her love and her warmth, the anticipation driving them both mad. With a subtle nod from her and a simultaneous declaration of love he slid into her waiting sheath. His penetration slow, almost a caress; his strokes long, and gentle, and deep as he gave her more and more of himself. Still sore from yesterday's love fest she found herself scooting away, running from the pain and the pressure of him pushing so deep. He gripped her hips, anchoring her beneath him, forcing her to embrace all of his love. Pain shot through her and she cried out in pleasure, lust, need as he drove into the very core of her. He leaned forward to kiss a tear she'd shed; resting gently upon her breasts as he thrust between her thighs with a smooth and steady rhythm; massaging away her pain with each delicate and loving stroke. The ecstasy overcoming her every sense, she gripped his bottom pulling him in, taking the love she'd shied painfully away from in the beginning. The subtle feel of her fingers eagerly gripping his cheeks encouraged him to push harder and faster.

"Am I hurting you?" He groaned breathlessly fighting to keep his wits about him as the passion put his mind in a haze.

She planted her feet firmly at each side of him and raised her hips from the bed, allowing all of his staff to slide into her; a silent and mind-whirling answer to his question.

He nearly growled in response to her eagerness. He had to freeze and hold ever so still to keep his seed from shooting out of him. But she continued to move herself upon his desire moaning his name in a wanton whisper. She was driving him mad, rendering him senseless.

"Freya stop," He implored breathlessly, trying not to cum.

She shook her head no and leaned forward to riddle his neck with soft wet kisses, and that was all he could stand. He pumped her just once so swift and so hard that she shed another tear in climax and he flooded her with his nectar. He gazed down at her dreamily placing kisses on her face, still sheathed in her warmth. She looked up into his large blue eyes, so full of love for her and found herself once again amazed.


End file.
